The Phoenix Chronicles, Volume I: Phoenix Dawn
by Jonathan Brenner
Summary: PostHBP. First volume of a planned series. Harry's fight to destroy the Horcruxes and Voldemort continues as he finds that his struggle encompasses more than he could imagine, and the risk is more than he can bear.
1. A Fond Farewell

_**The Phoenix Chronicles, Volume I: Phoenix Dawn**_

_**A Harry Potter FanFic by Jonathan Brenner**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter nor the characters associated with Harry Potter. I do not make money on this and am writing it purely for the entertainment of myself and all those who would read this.**_

_**Chapter 1: A Fond Farewell  
**_  
_Ginny was lying face down on the ground, bloodied and bruised, but there was nothing he could do. On his knees, blood tricking from cuts and gashes all over him, he could barely muster the strength to keep from collapsing. He felt the rage rising as he looked at her, burning deep in his chest. His gaze traveled up to their assailant, standing over them._

Before him was a dark figure, cloaked in robes as black as night, a face hidden by a hood to match. The attacker did not move nor make a sound as he faced Harry. A wand was clutched in the figure's right hand, pointed down towards the ground. Harry glanced downward, his own wand in pieces before him.

Without a word, the figure raised its wand, quickly waving it across. A searing pain shot across Harry's chest, and he screamed in pain. His shirt was tattered, the fresh rip oozing blood. The figure waved the wand again, and another tear streaked across his chest. Harry fell to his hands, but a moment later he pushed himself back on his knees, his emerald eyes flashing defiance. With a snarl, Harry pushed himself up onto his feet.

The figure waved his wand a third time, and a force knocked Harry backwards, skidding across the ground and stopping face down. He stayed in that position only a second before he pushed himself back onto his knees, his eyes returning to the attacker. The figure slowly raised the wand, but it did not point at Harry, it pointed at Ginny. Ginny looked up at the wand, then turned to Harry, her tear-filled eyes locked on his. "Harry…" she whispered. Then all Harry saw was a flash of green light.  
  
"GINNY!" Harry screamed as he shot up in bed. Harry looked around, disoriented and sweating. Relief overwhelmed him as he found himself in his bedroom at Number Four Privet Drive. He sat there for a moment, allowing his heart to slow back down. He swiped his hand across his brow as his eyes swept around the room.

A faint light was peeking through the fluttering curtains of the open window, though the sun had not quite come up yet. Hedwig's cage was open and empty on the desk in the corner of his room; Harry had let her out last night for some exercise. He did not do it too often; else he'd risk the ire of Uncle Vernon. He really did not care what his uncle thought or said, but felt that keeping the peace would be more constructive. He had considered sending Hedwig to the Burrow to stay, but Ron and Hermione had convinced him that it would be better to keep her with them, in case they needed to send a message out in an emergency.

Harry looked down at the two sleeping forms on the floor near his bed. True to their word, Ron and Hermione did not leave Harry alone for longer than a day after they had left Hogwarts. Hermione had told her parents that she would be staying with some friends over the summer to study for her upcoming N.E.W.Ts and wanted to start as soon as possible. Ron simply said that he'd be staying with Harry until around the end of July. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had yelled until they were red in the face when they arrived; but in the end, after promising that they would mostly be staying either in Harry's room or outside of the house while they were there, and that they would not be using magic of any sort, Uncle Vernon relented.

They were planning on leaving Privet Drive at least a week before Harry's birthday; they felt that waiting until Harry came of age would be too risky. They did not know who might be watching the house, so no one knew exactly when they would leave. Bill and Fleur's wedding had been delayed until the end of August, mostly due to Mrs. Weasley's concerns over security. Harry was nervous about being at the Burrow that long. His resolve over breaking up with Ginny after Dumbledore's funeral had barely held for five minutes speaking to her. He was not sure if he could hold it together for a whole month and a half.

Harry glanced down at his two friends again. He wasn't surprised that Ron and Hermione had not been woken up. The sleeping bags they slept in were charmed to provide extra comfort, regardless of the ground, and, when pulled over their heads, to be completely soundproof. They were glad for this; Harry had not gone one night when he did not wake screaming. Harry let out a sigh. He decided that he did not want to go back to sleep; the thought of going through that again was a bit unsettling, to say the least. Slowly and silently he slid out of bed and tip-toed to the door. Looking behind him to make sure no one was stirring, he softly opened the door and slipped into the hallway.

Harry knew the Dursleys would not be awake. They (Ron and Hermione, since Harry was still not of age) had put Silence Charms on Harry's room the day Ron and Hermione arrived, to avoid any eavesdropping from nosy relatives (on more than one occasion Harry had opened his door to find Aunt Petunia awkwardly falling into the room). Harry went into the kitchen and put the kettle on. This had become routine for him. During the week he would make breakfast when he got up, to keep the peace between them and the Dursleys; on weekends such as this he had plenty of time before he needed to start. The Dursleys liked to sleep in late when they could.

He took the kettle off just before it was to whistle. He made himself a cup of tea and sat down at the table, reflecting again on his dream. It didn't really bother Harry that he had never seen the face of who it was in his nightmare that was attacking him and Ginny, but there was no doubt in his mind who it was. Harry didn't need to see his face to know that. What did bother Harry was how he felt when waking up. If it had been Ron or Hermione, the sense of loss would have been devastating, to be sure. That it was Ginny made Harry feel that life had simply ceased to exist and all he needed to do was to just roll over and die. It scared him to think of what he felt for Ginny, even though they'd only been together a few weeks, but it also helped to strengthen his resolve on his decision. The further away she was, the safer she would be. The more miserable he would be, certainly, but that was a role he had to accept, for her sake.

As he sipped his tea, Harry heard footsteps outside the door and soon Hermione's head popped into the kitchen. "Harry?" she whispered.

Harry smiled up at her as she sat down at the table. "What got you up so early?" he asked, taking another sip.

"I could ask you the same question," she replied as she got right back up to get herself a cup. "Your relatives won't be awake for hours."

"I know. I had trouble sleeping last night and decided to come downstairs and enjoy some peace and quiet." Harry did not feel like talking about his nightmares. His scar never hurt afterwards and so he convinced himself that they weren't significant. He hoped he was right.

"You had a nightmare didn't you?" It was more of a statement than a question, and it caught Harry off guard. Hermione sat back down with her tea and looked at him. "Honestly, Harry, I've known you for six years. Do you think I wouldn't be able to figure out what would get you out of bed so early on a morning when you didn't have to get up to cook?"

Harry shrugged. "I suppose not."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Harry stared at his cup. After a moment, he responded. "I dreamed I was fighting Voldemort for the last time. And I lost." He looked up at Hermione. "I lost, and it wasn't me that had to pay for my failure."

Hermione gave him a look of sympathy. "What happened?"

Harry sat silent. He was not sure if he wanted to talk about it, but then again it was eating him up inside. Besides, it was a bit late to keep it to himself. "I didn't die."

Hermione was confused. "If you didn't die, then why are you upset?"

"Because…..because Ginny did." Harry stammered.

Hermione stared at him. "Harry, nothing is going to happen to Ginny. It-"

"How do you know?" he snapped. "How do you know nothing will happen? How do you know nothing will happen to you, or Ron, or the Weasleys, or the Order? Did you read it somewhere in a book?"

Hermione didn't say a word, but Harry saw he hurt her. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I just…..I don't know what I'm supposed to do. Or even where to start. Just like I don't know how I'm to keep everyone safe while I'm doing…whatever it is."

"That's why you broke up with Ginny, isn't it? To keep her away so she'll be safe." Harry nodded. Hermione reached across the table and gripped Harry's hand. "It's okay. We'll find the answers, Harry. It may seem daunting now, but we'll find them."

"I don't know what I'll do if anything happens to you, or Ron, or…or…" Harry choked before he could finish.

"Or Ginny?" Hermione asked softly. Harry looked down and nodded. "I…I'm sorry, Harry. It was a difficult decision you had to make, and it's not fair that you had to make it in the first place. I don't think there's really anything I can say that will make you feel better."

Harry looked up at her to see her staring off to the side. "You should talk to him." Hermione looked up. "He cares about you as much as you do about him."

"I…I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you do. You and Ron are my best friends. Do you think that I wouldn't notice the looks you give each other when you think the other isn't paying attention?"

"He…I…he looks at me?"

Harry chuckled. "Yeah, and not in the annoyed, will-Hermione-ever-say-something-not-quoted-from-a-book way, either."

Hermione smiled sheepishly. "Oh."

"And do you think I wouldn't notice how close your sleeping bags are to each other each night?"

"Wha-no-they-nothing's happened!" Hermione sputtered.

Harry laughed. "I know nothing's happened. I'd actually be a little unnerved if something did happen while I was sleeping five feet from the two of you. I'm just pointing out that you two have been rather close since the funeral."

Hermione sighed. "I don't know. Honestly, Harry, what would be the point right now? We're entering the most dangerous time of our lives. I really don't know if now's the best time to try to strike up any kind of relationship."

Harry shook his head. "I wonder if there's a time when it's more important." When Hermione gave him a confused looked, he continued, "Voldemort preys on our fear. Absolute fear. The day where he makes us fear to even love is the day he wins, and the day there's nothing left to fight for."

Hermione glanced down at her tea. "I feel like we've had to do so much growing up in such a short time. We should be thinking about enjoying the summer and looking forward to the next school year, not trying to figure out how we're going to defeat the greatest evil of our age."

"Which is why it is just as important for us to hang onto the things we love. We cannot allow Voldemort to dictate how we live our lives."

"So why'd you break up with Ginny then?" Harry's face darkened and he sat back. "I'm sorry, Harry, I know you had your reasons and you feel that they are good ones. But for someone who's talking about not letting Voldemort keep us from falling in love, you seem to be doing your best to let him do just that."

"I'm keeping her safe. If I had my way, you and Ron would be far away from me too."

"Well, we're not, and we're not going to be. And I know you didn't ask my opinion, but I don't think you should keep her away, either."

Harry looked down. "Life would not be worth living if I lost the three of you."

"You're risking losing one of us by not living your life right now." Harry looked up at her. Hermione saw his eyes were beginning to moisten. "Here, let me help you with breakfast," she sighed, standing up and collecting the tea cups.

"When d'you reckon we should go home?" Ron asked later that day. He and Harry were in the midst of what felt like their hundredth game of wizard's chess (the pieces were feeling particularly mutinous and were threatening to strike a truce with each other and attack both Harry and Ron). Hermione was scanning through the books she had brought along for any clues as to where they might look for the remaining Horcruxes, though even that task had been repeated numerous times.

"Depends. How soon can you pack?" Hermione and Ron stopped to look at Harry. "We're not really getting anything accomplished," he explained. "The only reason I came back is because of a promise I made to Dumbledore. But our resources here are extremely limited. We need to be where we have access to more than just a few books and our own theories. Besides, we haven't seen anyone in three weeks. Hermione should go visit her parents. The chances of that may be few and far between."

"Where do you think we should go?" Hermione asked. "Grimmauld Place?"

Harry sighed. "I've thought about that. But I don't know how safe that would be."

"Dumbledore was the secret keeper, Harry. The secret died with him."

Harry nodded. "I know. The problem, though, is that someone knows where Grimmauld Place is, outside of the Order."

Ron piped in. "Snape, right? But who cares about that git?"

"I do. I want to find him, but I'm not ready for that, not yet. He may not be able to tell others where the Black house is, but he can lead them to outside of it." Harry shook his head. "No, Grimmauld Place is too risky."

"Okay, so that's out. Where does that leave us?"

Harry scratched his head. "For now, I was thinking the Burrow. At least until we find someplace more suitable."

Ron brightened up. "Hey, that's a great idea! What place could be more suitable than that?"

"Someplace where I'm not endangering at least a dozen people." One more so than the rest, he thought.

Ron scowled. Hermione looked unsure. "I don't know," she said. "Your connection with the Weasleys is well known. Plus, the Death Eaters know all of the Weasleys are part of the Order."

"Not all of the Weasleys," Ron muttered.

Harry ignored him. Standing up, he began pacing around the room. "That doesn't mean that they're not safer away from me. I'm the focus of Voldemort. Right now, that will be all he cares about. With Dumbledore out of the way, there's not a whole lot standing between me and him. The faster we find and destroy the Horcruxes, the better off we are. The problem is that one, we don't know where they are, and two, we don't know how to destroy them." Harry sighed. "I don't want to be at the Burrow longer than I have to."

"We'll figure it out, Harry," Hermione said. "The answers may not be clear now, but I think that we'll find it to be more obvious once we find them." Harry gave her a dubious look. "Think about this," she continued. "How did you know to stab the diary with the fang of the basilisk?"

Harry thought a moment. "I don't really know. A part of me was filled with a rage that Tom was getting away with this and wanted to lash out at whatever I could get my hands on. At that point in time, I could get my hands on the fang and Tom's diary."

Hermione thought a moment. "Maybe subconsciously you know how to destroy each one, but it doesn't become apparent until you are in the possession of it."

Harry thought about this. "I'm not sure if that's it. If that's true, then I would think that I would also know what they are and where they are at."

"Well, it's something to keep in mind, at least." Hermione closed her book and stood up. "But I do think that leaving as soon as we can may be the best thing we could do right now, and the best place to go to would be the Burrow. How are you planning to get there? Neither you nor Ron have your Apparating license yet."

"Well, I think the best way would be Floo. We wouldn't have to leave the house, and the network is pretty untraceable."

Hermione looked unconvinced. "How, exactly, are we to travel the Floo Network without any powder? Last I checked, your aunt and uncle did not stock any. Besides, how on earth do you plan on getting their fireplace connected to the Network?"

Harry opened his trunk and pulled out a bag. In it was the familiar gray-colored powder used for traveling between fireplaces. "I nicked some from Hogwarts before we left. Grabbed three handfuls, in case we had to run off in a pinch. And I have a feeling that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley probably had the house connected temporarily, in case of an emergency."

"Well, stealing aside," Hermione said, glaring at Harry, "don't you think your relatives would have something to say if we just marched downstairs with our trunks packed, waved good-bye, and vanished in a green flame in their fireplace?"

Harry grinned. "How else can I properly say good-bye for the last time? If we're lucky, we might be able to get off a hex or two before leaving."

Hermione opened her mouth to object, but quickly clamped it shut. "I suppose they would probably have it coming." She stuffed her book into her trunk and began to roll her sleeping bag. She looked up and Harry and Ron, who were staring back at her. "Well? Are you packing or what?"

Harry and Ron looked at each other. Ron shrugged and began to pack his chess set away. Harry started packing his belongings into his trunk, preparing to leave Number Four Privet Drive for the last time.

In the end, there was no need to worry about how Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon reacted to two wizards and a witch disappearing through the Floo. As they were packing, there was a knock on the door. Harry opened the door to find Uncle Vernon standing there to announce that they (they being Aunt Petunia, and Cousin Dudley) were going out to celebrate Dudley's 17th birthday, and that they (they being Harry, Ron, and Hermione) were to stay in Harry's room and not, under any circumstances, use any of the nonsense that they use at that good-for-nothing school, or else they (they being someone who might want to actually listen to Uncle Vernon rant) would hear of it. Before Harry could say anything, Uncle Vernon turned around and marched down the stairs. A second later, the front door slammed. Harry walked down to the living room and watched as the Dursleys pulled out of the driveway and drove away down Privet Drive.

He turned around and saw Ron and Hermione looking at him from the stairway. "All right, mate?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged. "I suppose a part of me should feel bad that I'll probably never see them again. But to tell the truth, I don't feel anything. I don't feel happy that I'll never see them again. I don't feel regret that we never got along in the first place. I just don't feel anything."

"It's okay, Harry." Hermione said, reassuringly. "This is probably for the best, anyways. The last thing we really want is a confrontation where someone ends up being hexed and then the Ministry shows up screaming about underage use of magic."

Harry nodded. "Yeah I guess you're right. Are you two about packed?"

"I just have a few more books to gather up," Hermione answered. "Ron and I can bring your trunk down, if you want to look around one last time." Harry thought a moment and then nodded. "Go ahead and send Hedwig out and tell her to stay at the Burrow. Don't write any messages, just in case." As Ron and Hermione went back upstairs to finish, Harry began to look around for the last time.

It was an odd feeling. He quite expected to feel nothing, as he did when the Dursleys left. But he found that, despite the scores of bad memories, he still felt some attachment and sadness that this was it. As he walked around, he realized that it wasn't so much the house that made him feel odd, but it was the cupboard.

As he came closer to it, he thought of the day almost exactly six years ago that began to change his life forever. The day that he received his very first letter from Hogwarts. From anybody, actually. He could never have dreamed that something as innocent as that would seem to trigger the events that had led him to this very day. If not for that letter, he never would have gone to Hogwarts; he never would have learned about magic, he never would have met Ron, or Hermione, or Ginny…

Harry felt a pain stab him in the heart. The thought of never meeting Ginny left him cold and aching. He stubbornly forced her out of his mind. If he felt like this away from her, he thought to himself, how was he going to hold up when he'd be near her at the Burrow? It would probably be at least that; the truth was, Harry had no idea whatsoever where they would go from there. He also had doubts about finding the Horcruxes in general. It was not fear, but rather ignorance; he knew very little about Tom Riddle and where he might have hid them. The only one who seemed to know anything about Tom Riddle was dead.

Harry shook his head, trying to clear his mind. He didn't want to think about that yet. There were still a few happy days ahead of him; now was not the time to dwell on the nightmares to come. He looked at the cupboard door once more. Shaking his head and smiling sadly, he rested his hand on the door for a moment, then turned his back and walked away.

A few minutes later Ron and Hermione had the trunks in the living room as Harry started the fire. After Harry pulled out the bag of Floo powder from his trunk, Hermione shrunk each of the trunks down to the size of a small toaster. Harry opened the bag and held it out to Hermione. She took a handful and approached the fireplace. She tossed the powder into the fire and watched as it turned bright green. She stepped into the furnace, clutching her trunk. "The Burrow!" she hollered, and in a puff of flame disappeared.

Ron stepped up next. He took his handful of powder from Harry and tossed it into the fireplace. "The Burrow!" he cried, and with another puff vanished.

Harry looked around the living room one last time. He smiled at the thought that the Dursleys finally had their wish of never having their life turned upside down again. He put his hand into the bag, but a sudden thought made him pull it back out. With a mischievous grin, he pulled out his wand and turned around.

Five minutes after Ron had come stumbling through the Weasleys fireplace, Harry felt himself tumbling out. He stood up and brushed himself off, then looked up to find four Weasleys and a Granger staring at him. "Umm…hi?"

"Harry James Potter! What in the bloody hell took you so long? Did you think that we wouldn't be worried if you didn't come tumbling out right after Ron? Are you completely and utterly daft?" Hermione was practically red with rage. After a second, she looked around and saw four Weasleys and a Potter staring at her. "Well, it could have been serious," she added defensively.

"Honestly, you're starting to be scarier than my mum," Ron muttered.

"Ronald!" Mrs. Weasley scolded, then quickly walked up to Harry. "Harry, dear, lovely to see you again. I'm so glad to see you three safe!" she exclaimed as she gathered him up in a hug. Harry stood there for only a second before he returned the embrace. "Thanks, Mrs. Weasley, it's good to see you too," he replied.

"Harry, my boy!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed, stepping up and gripping Harry's hand in a firm handshake. "How are you doing?"

"Fine, thanks, Mr. Weasley, how are you?"

"I'm holding my own, Harry, as much as can be expected." Mr. Weasley's face turned serious, and, moving closer to Harry, whispered, "Harry, there's something that's been stumping us over at the office. Can you explain to me what purpose Muggles have of a 'chia pet'?"

"Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley hollered. "The boy just arrived, leave him in peace. In fact, why don't you take their trunks to their rooms and enlarge them for them, since you seem to have nothing better to do?" Mr. Weasley looked sheepishly at his wife, then, flashing Harry a smile, took his trunk along with Ron's and Hermione's and trudged upstairs.

"Harry, are you hungry? You look like you haven't eaten in months! Give me a few minutes and I will fix you something to eat." In a flash, Mrs. Weasley marched off to the kitchen.

"What took you so long, mate?" Ron asked.

"Well, I was coming right behind you, but decided to leave the Dursleys a parting gift," Harry explained, a twinkle in his eye.

"Harry, what did you do?" Hermione looked as if she was ready to pounce on a lion.

Harry cleared his throat. "Well, I was thinking about all the times I seemed to turn their life upside down, and I thought it would be horribly inappropriate if I didn't leave them something to remember me by, as a way of showing my gratitude."

"What did you do?"

"I rearranged their furniture."

Hermione stared. "What?"

Ron piped in. "Oi! I know what you did! Brilliant, mate!"

Hermione turned to Ron. "What, exactly did he do?"

"I put their furniture on the ceiling."

Hermione looked at Harry, fury building in her eyes. Before she could unload on them, they were interrupted by the sound of giggling.

Harry's heart leaped into his throat as he turned around. "Hi, Ginny," he said quietly.

Ginny's laughter subsided, and her look took a slightly more serious expression. "Hi, Harry," she replied. "Glad to see you're finally here."

"Um, sure, thanks, Gin." Harry's heart was pounding in his ears. "How have you been holding up?"

Ginny's expression soured at the question. "Don't worry about me, Harry. I'll survive The-Boy-Who-Lived." She shot Harry an angry look, and turned and walked out of the room. Ron looked at him. "You have the romantic personality of a brick," he said.

Harry glared, and was about to retort, when a blazing pain seared his forehead. He screamed and clutched at his scar as he fell to the ground. His eyes saw nothing but darkness, and his ears were muted. He felt numb all over. He tried to move but his arms and legs refused to obey. Harry started to panic, and it was then he heard a sound that pierced his soul.

There was laughter, a dark, sinister laugh. The voice spoke, "I can see you…and I can see her." Pain exploded all over his body, and his eyes were filled with a green light. Then darkness overwhelmed him again.


	2. Time heals no wounds

_**The Phoenix Chronicles, Volume I: Phoenix Dawn**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter nor the characters associated with Harry Potter. I do not make money on this and am writing it purely for the entertainment of myself and all those who read this.**_

_**Chapter 2: Time heals no wounds**_

Harry opened his eyes. He couldn't see anything. "Ginny?" he called out, waving his arms around in the darkness. "Ginny?"

A hand rested on his shoulders. "It's all right, my boy," a male voice answered. Harry saw a light flicker, and as the candlelight lit up the room, he glanced around, but the world was a blur. He began to panic, arms flailing around wildly.

"Here, Harry," the voice said, and felt his glasses being pressed into his hand. Shakily, he put them on and watched as the world came into focus. He found himself in Ron's room; the Chudley Cannons posters were plastered all over the wall. He looked over and saw Mr. Weasley sitting in a chair beside the bed, smiling at him. He handed Harry a glass of water. "How are you feeling?"

"I…I'm okay, I guess," Harry said, sitting up in the bed, and taking a sip. He felt his body relaxing. "What time is it?"

"Around two thirty in the morning." Mr. Weasley sat straighter in the chair. "You've given us quite a scare, you know. Poppy was beside herself trying to figure out what happened."

"Madame Pomfrey was here?"

Mr. Weasley nodded. "As I said, you gave us quite a scare," he repeated. "Ron said that you had screamed and fell. You started going into convulsions when Molly and I came running into the room. The three of us tried to hold you down, but we couldn't keep you from shaking. Hermione tried to keep your head still. We were afraid that you were going to break your back, or worse. But the seizure wouldn't stop, until…" Mr. Weasley's voice drifted off as his face became thoughtful.

"Until what?" Harry asked, tensing.

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat. "Ginny heard you yelling from outside and came in. When she saw you on the ground and us trying to hold you down, she ran over and grabbed your hand, calling your name. As soon as she had, you stopped shaking."

Harry sat in silence. He wasn't sure what to say to that. Mr. Weasley continued, "When she let go of your hand, mostly out of surprise, you began to convulse again. She picked it back up almost immediately, and the seizure subsided once again. She wouldn't release it again until an hour ago."

Harry raised his eyes to Mr. Weasley. "She was with me the entire time?"

"She would not let go even when we carried you up here, and would not relinquish it when Poppy was looking you over. She fell asleep in the chair here holding your hand. When I woke her, it took a lot of convincing to get her to let go. When she did and you didn't stir, I sent her to bed, telling her she would be no good to anyone, especially you, if she didn't get some proper rest." Mr. Weasley smiled. "And she wouldn't do that unless I promised to stay in here with you."

Harry swallowed hard. "Thank you, Mr. Weasley," he whispered. He looked at Ron's empty bed. "Where's Ron?"

"Sleeping downstairs in the den. He decided that it was best if he gave you some space, plus I think he felt it would have been rather uncomfortable sleeping in here tonight, in light of what had happened."

Harry nodded. Mr. Weasley patted Harry's arm. They sat in silence for awhile, before Mr. Weasley spoke again. "When Ginny wrote to us from Hogwarts a month and a half ago, telling us that you two were seeing each other, her mother and I had some…reservations." Harry's face flushed red. He wasn't looking forward to this conversation at all. Mr. Weasley continued, "For almost as long as you have known Ron, she has been infatuated with you, as I'm sure you were aware." Harry nodded. "She wrote to us often during the last few weeks of this past term. Molly and I had never felt such happiness radiating from her letters."

Harry flushed red. "Mr. Weasley-"

Mr. Weasley held up a hand. "I know it doesn't seem like the right time to discuss this, but I think what I have to say may be appropriate. We were concerned," he continued, "because we feared that it would end only in disappointment. We felt it was a serious misjudgment on your part, considering that you knew how she had felt about you after all these years. But we trusted Ginny to make her own decisions." He sighed. "She is very stubborn and probably wouldn't have listened to us anyways."

"When we returned after the funeral, we noticed a change in Ginny. She wasn't full of the happiness that her letters had reflected. She smiled little, and talked less. After a few days her mother sat her down and, after a conversation, learned what had happened between you two at the funeral. To her credit, she didn't cry, and tried to put up a strong front. But we could tell that she was crushed."

Harry stared down at the bed. "I…I'm sorry, Mr. Weasley. I did what I felt was in the best interest of Ginny's safety."

Mr. Weasley smiled. "I know you did, Harry. But I have not quite finished yet. As I was saying, she was crushed. We felt that, perhaps, this was for the best, and this would be the end of her school girl crush. Even after these three weeks, and little change in her behavior, her mother and I thought that she would, eventually, get over this and move on. We didn't fault you for what you did; it was a very mature and responsible decision. 'Noble', as I believe a young red-haired witch described it. Though I daresay there was a bit of sarcasm in her voice when she said it."

"It was probably the hardest decision I've ever had to make." Harry was doing his best not to look up. His eyes were moist.

Mr. Weasley looked away towards the window. "I see that, now. After what happened earlier this afternoon, it's pretty evident that there are deeper feelings than we had believed. Harry, I can't begin to imagine what you've had to experience these past years. You've faced things that a normal or even a strong wizard would falter against, and I suspect that the worst is yet to come. However, I am reminded of a pair of young wizards who found themselves in a similar position such as yourself." Harry looked up to see Mr. Weasley smiling. "Your parents, of course."

"My parents?"

"I did not know them well, back then. Hardly at all, to be honest. Bit of an age difference, to tell the truth, plus Molly and I were not Order members, so this may not quite be first hand information, but I feel it may be relevant."

"How is that?"

"James was one of the original members of the Order, not to mention one of the most active. He never missed an opportunity to go on missions against the Death Eaters. Always preferred to act rather than plan." Harry smiled at this. "It was because of this," Mr. Weasley continued, "that he soon found himself rather high on Voldemort's list of enemies. Had a knack of getting out of whatever messes he found himself in, or so I'm told. Some wagered he was second only to Dumbledore. It was very dangerous for him, and those close to him."

"It was then he tried to break things off with Lily."

Harry was shocked. "Why?"

"You know the reasons why, Harry," Mr. Weasley replied. "They're the same as yours. James loved Lily, so much that he felt that if anything would happen to her, that there'd be no reason to continue fighting. And, hunted as he was, he feared for her safety. The man did get the best of Voldemort on three separate occasions."

Harry gaped at him. The similarities between what Mr. Weasley just said and what he had told himself just this morning were staggering. "Mr. Weasley…"

Mr. Weasley continued on, ignoring Harry's interruption. "Your mother wouldn't have any of it. She felt that it was a foolish romantic notion to try to keep her away. She wore him down, though I suspect James relented without much argument, and soon after they were married. Despite all the evil that surrounded them, they lived the happiest times of their lives in those few years. Together, not apart, with no regrets."

"Who-who told you this?"

Mr. Weasley smiled sadly. "Sirius did, a month or so before the incident at the Ministry."

"Why?"

"I think he felt that it might someday be prudent that it be relayed to you, by someone 'more upstanding and responsible', or so he put it. I don't think people gave him enough credit. The man was sharper than his scraggly looks." Harry chuckled softly.

Mr. Weasley stood up. Harry looked back down. "Sir," he said quietly, "I can't put her in danger like this. I-I'd lose myself if something happened to her."

Mr. Weasley reached over and put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "There are some things that, no matter what might be happening around us, we must fight to hold on to. Not fight to lock away where we think they are safe, for what good would that do? To fear to love is to fear to live, and that is a life not worth living." With that, Mr. Weasley, stood, put out the candle, and opened the bedroom door. "Get some rest, Harry."

Harry leaned back into his pillow and stared into the darkness a long time, lost in thought. He was suddenly very unsure of himself and his decisions. Why is it that everyone else seemed to know what was best for him? _And why_, he thought bitterly, _did they always seem to be right?_

The next few days were about as hard as he imagined they would be. Hermione had gone home to spend some time with her parents (which Ron seemed a bit put-out over, though he didn't say anything). Ginny seemed to be avoiding Harry whenever possible, doing her best to spend as little time in the same room as him. This seemed to work out quite well for Harry, as he was also doing his best to avoid being in the same room as her, though he suspected for rather different reasons.

When he had come out of his room the day after his "incident", there was no lack of sympathy from the Weasleys. Mrs. Weasley had immediately force-fed him three bowls of soup, two sandwiches, a jug of pumpkin juice, and all the treacle tart he could eat. Mr. Weasley had patted him on the back and told him how glad he was that Harry seemed to be on the mend. Hermione, before she left for home, had given him a hug and told him how worried she was, whereas Ron asked if he was up for some Quidditch later on, a question that got them both menacing stares from Ms. Granger.

Ginny kept her distance when she had first seen him in the kitchen. When Harry had looked up and saw her, their eyes met. Hers was filled with compassion, worry, and hurt; his with uncertainty and more than a trace of regret. His mind wandered to his dream, however, and he set a steely expression over his face and looked back down to his food without a word. When he didn't hear anything from where she was standing, he looked up only to see that she had left. He sighed and caught a glance from Mr. Weasley, his brow indicating disappointment in Harry's decision. Disappointment, and concern.

And so it had gone in the following days. Harry did his best to keep Ginny pushed to the back of his mind; there were other things he needed to focus on. Since Harry, Ron, and Hermione had not had any luck in their research into the Horcruxes, and Hermione was away for the week, Harry and Ron had decided to work on their spell work, usually either up in Ron's room or outside away from the house. They hadn't told anyone what they were planning yet; Harry wasn't sure if they ever would, not until after they were gone. Everyone would just do their best to keep them from leaving.

But eventually his thoughts would wander back to Ginny, and what could have been. He honestly felt that, had circumstances been different, then they would have had all the time in the world together. Granted that they had only been together for only a few weeks, but in that short amount of time he felt a connection that before he never thought was possible. When he told her it had been like something out of someone else's life, he truly meant it. He had lived a dream in that preciously short amount of time. But it was only that, a dream. It was time to face reality, and inevitability.

One morning, a little over a week after they had arrived back at the Burrow, Harry awoke to find a blur of red in front of his face. He fumbled for his glasses and, once they were on, saw Ron's grinning face staring down at him. "Um, hi, Ron," Harry said slowly. "What are you doing?"

"Happy birthday, mate!" Ron replied. Harry looked confused for a moment. Something caught his attention at the top of his eyes, and he looked up in time to see a floating bucket tip itself over and pour water all over his head.

Harry shot up out of bed sputtering and dripping water all over the floor, while muttering threats and swearing at Ron's directions. Ron laughed. "Mum's cooking you your birthday breakfast, and you don't wanna miss out. Birthday breakfasts are the best ones." With that, Ron dashed out of the room before Harry had a chance to throw the empty bucket at him.

Smells of sausage, bacon, and eggs slowly drifted through the open door. Harry grinned as he threw on clean (and dry) clothes and ran down the stairs. He stopped in surprise when he burst into the kitchen. Ron wasn't kidding at all. There were at least five different kinds of eggs, plus mountains of sausage links, strips of bacon, and toast. Already at the table was Ron and Hermione (sitting side by side; Harry noted that their chairs seemed to be a bit closer together than usual), the twins (shouting cheers that their hero had finally arrived to slay the beast of hunger), Mr. Weasley (fumbling with a flashlight trying to figure out how a non-magical device could produce such a bright light), Bill and Fleur (staring at each other and seemingly oblivious to everyone around them), and Ginny.

His eyes met Ginny's for a moment, and she quickly turned away. Harry's mood dropped a bit, but he inwardly shook it off and went to sit down. Unfortunately, the only place available at the table was right beside her. With grim determination, he walked to the chair, noting that Ginny seemed to stiffen as he sat down.

"Happy birthday, dear," Mrs. Weasley said as she sat a plate full of food down in front of him. "This should get you started, I'll fix you another plate once you finish your first one, okay?" Harry nodded dumbly as he stared at the pile of food in front of him. His stomach growled loudly, provoking laughter from the rest of the table. Harry grinned sheepishly as he grabbed a fork. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a slight trace of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. When she saw that she had been caught, the smile disappeared and her head turned away.

After breakfast Harry, Ron, and the twins went out for a pickup game. Mrs. Weasley told Harry that there would be a party later in the afternoon. Remus, Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebort, and Mad-Eye Moody were coming to attend. Harry wasn't sure if Kingsley and Mad-Eye were coming for the party or to keep an eye on him. He was now of-age, and any protection the Death Eaters _thought_ the Burrow gave him would now be at an end.

Once the game had concluded, Ron and Harry decided to walk back to the house instead of flying back on their brooms. Harry was quiet as his mind drifted onto Ginny once again. Try as he might, it seemed as if he simply would not be able to push her away, at least in his thoughts. Every time he did, she came rushing back, and all he could see is her twinking brown eyes, her fire-red hair, her soft smile…

Harry angrily shook his head and banished the thought away again. Ron watched his silent struggle. He cleared his throat. "All right, mate?"

Harry visibly stiffened, but kept walking. "I'm fine," he muttered.

Ron was unconvinced. He wasn't one for subtlety, and he wasn't about to start now. "Why are you ignoring Ginny?"

Harry sighed. "I'm not the only one ignoring the other. Besides, you already know why."

Ron stopped and grabbed his arm. "No, I knew why before. I mean, why now?"

Harry pulled his arm out of Ron's grasp but didn't keep walking. "You already know why," he repeated.

"Do you know what happened-"

"Yes I bloody well know what happened!" Harry snapped. "And if anyone else outside of this house finds out her life would be forfeit, wouldn't it?"

Ron paled momentarily, but then reddened in anger. "So that gives you the right to act like a total git around her and make her feel like a castoff?"

"I'm not-"

"Yes, you are!" Ron yelled. "I may not be as smart as you or Hermione, but I'm not blind! Do you know why you haven't seen Ginny around hardly in the past two days?" Harry shook his head. "She's been locking herself in her room, crying her eyes out!"

"Well, what do you want from me, Ron?" Harry asked. He was doing his best not to lose his temper, but he was quickly losing his grip. "I can't go back out with her, she's in enough danger as it is, and you know it."

"I didn't say get back together." Ron's voice was quieter, but still full of rage. "But you _can_ at least act like you're still friends with her."

"No, I can't." Ron started to speak but Harry stopped him. "I can't, because every time I see her and am near her, I see her as more than just a friend, I _feel_ that she's more than just a friend."

"So what?" Ron demanded angrily.

"Voldemort is an accomplished Legilimens, and I have practically no Occlumency skills to speak of. How long do you think it would take for him to get a read on what I feel for her? He already knows we were seeing each other. Trust me, the sooner I push her out of my mind, the safer she'll be."

Ron was quiet. Harry had told him about the message Voldemort had sent him when they arrived at the Burrow. "Harry," he said slowly, "weren't you the one who said that we should let our feelings known, despite what we might fear from V-Voldemort?" Ron still had trouble saying his name out loud.

"I know, but this is-hang on, who told you I said that?" Harry asked.

Ron reddened, but this time it wasn't from anger. "Um, Hermione did," he said quietly.

Harry stared at him for a moment, then realization crept across his face. "She did, huh. Did she also happen to tell you what we were discussing when I said that?"

"Yeah…yeah she did."

Harry grinned. "So, did you make your move after she said that?"

Ron shook his head. Harry's grin turned into exasperation. Ron quickly added, "Um, when she told me all that, it was more a response to something I did."

Harry's grin returned. "You didn't…" Ron grinned sheepishly. "You did!" Harry exclaimed, thumping Ron on the back. "What made you do that? When did this happen?"

Ron scratched his head. "As for when, yesterday. As for what…" Ron sighed. "You'll probably laugh."

Harry held up his right hand. "I solemnly swear I will not laugh."

"Fine. Viktor Krum."

"Viktor Krum?"

"Yeah, Hermione got a letter from the git yesterday. When I saw her get a letter, I asked who it was from, and she told me. And, well, you know how I get about Vicky."

Harry smiled and nodded. "So, then what?"

"Well, I asked her why in the world the git was writing to her. She said not to call him a git, so I said I was sorry, what was _Vicky_ writing to her about, and well, you know where that usually leads."

"As usual. So you two had another argument. I don't see how that leads to…well…you know."

"Well, it went back and forth a few times, and then she asked who I thought I was, telling her who could write to her and who couldn't. And looking at her, I realized she was right. I wasn't her boyfriend; I didn't have the right to dictate which guys could talk to her. And you know, Harry, I realized I wanted to have that right." Ron sighed. "I looked at her and saw both the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, and the most infuriating girl in the history of the world. So I did what any bloke would have done. I kissed her."

Harry chuckled. "Somehow, that's fitting."

Ron smiled. "Yeah, and the slap she gave me right afterwards also seemed par for the course."

Harry's chuckling caught in his throat. "She did _what?_"

"About knocked a tooth out is what she did. And then ran into the bathroom and locked the door. I spent a half-hour banging on the door trying to get her to open up so I could talk to her, but would she listen? _No_, she just said to go away, that she didn't need any pity." Ron threw up his hands. "Honestly, the girl went _mental_. I still haven't figured out what she was going on about."

"Probably some kind of insecurity thing. You know how she about that."

"Well, whatever it was, I'd had enough. So I told her I wasn't leaving until she came out, sat down against the door, and waited for her to open the door."

"How long did you wait?" Harry asked.

Ron snorted. "Three hours."

Harry rubbed his chin, trying to hide his grin. "You don't say. Did she open the door?"

"Yeah, eventually. I had stood back up and was trying to listen through the door for any sound coming through. Hearing none, I sighed and leaned my back against it. Wouldn't you know she would pick that time to fling the door open? I fell in, hit my head on the door _and _the floor on the way down, and ended up sprawled on my back staring up at the ceiling."

"Nice and dashing."

"Thanks. So she's hovering over me and asking me if I'm okay, and I'm going, 'Do I look like I'm bloody okay woman? My head hurts!'. One guess what she wants to do."

"Look up the cure for a headache in a book."

"Right in one. So I jump up and grab her before she makes for her books, spin her around, and before I know what I'm doing, I'm kissing her again."

Harry grimaced. "How many teeth for that one?"

Ron smirked. "None. No one can resist the charms of Ronald Weasley, at least twice in one day."

"Right, how silly of me to forget. So what happened?"

"When I pulled away, she was crying, so I asked her what she was crying about. She said I was only kissing her because I didn't want her seeing Viktor Krum. I told her that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard and if she was too bloody daft to see that I loved her and she loved me then maybe she was better off with Vicky to begin with."

Harry was stunned. "You said _what_?"

Ron's face flushed again. "I…I don't know why I said that. It was like suddenly, when I looked at her, I saw everything I wanted in life right in front of me."

"Yeah, but you also told _her_ that she loved _you_, too."

Ron smiled, and Harry saw this wasn't an embarrassed grin or a mischievous grin. The smile across Ron's mouth this time was full of warmth and happiness. "I did, didn't I?"

The answer instantly clicked with Harry. "She does?"

Ron nodded. "She does." Ron's demeanor became a little more nervous, and his smile faded a bit. "I hope your okay with this, mate."

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, I know we're both your best mates, and all, and I hope this doesn't cause anything to come between us."

Harry's expression turned serious. "No, but remember, Hermione is like the sister I never had, so if you do anything to upset her, keep in mind that you'd be a dead man, Weasley."

Ron froze, horrified. "You know I would never-"

"Of course I do," Harry said, laughing. "I'm glad you finally did something. I couldn't be happier."

Ron smiled, but quickly frowned. "Actually, I think you could be, mate."

Harry's mood soured. "Maybe, but it's not my choice." Harry saw Ron's temper begin to flare up again. "Look, let's not talk about this now. I don't know about you but I'm hungry, and you wouldn't want to spoil my birthday party, would you?"

Ron sighed. "I suppose not. But we're not done, Harry." With that, he thumped Harry on the back and trudged off towards the house.

Harry stayed behind, watching Ron walk off ahead of him. He was relieved that Ron had dropped the subject of Ginny, at least for now, but what Ron had said stirred something in Harry. It was a slow realization, but Harry recognized that, whenever he thought of the future, there had always been one particular person that he'd envisioned sharing it with. He angrily shook his head and tried to drive off the thoughts, but he couldn't shake them. _It was only three weeks_, he told himself, _it can't happen in only three weeks_.

"Oi! You coming?" Ron called back to him.

Harry nodded and started to trudge towards the house. He intended to enjoy these days at the Burrow; there would not be many more like them.

The remaining guests began to arrive shortly after the game. Remus and Tonks arrived first (Tonks apparated on top of the table in the garden and promptly fell off, crashing into three chairs), followed in short order by Moody and Shacklebolt. While Moody roamed around the grounds making sure all the wards were in place ("Constant vigilance," he muttered to himself as he stalked), Kingsley approached Harry.

"Happy birthday, Harry," he told him, shaking his hand. "Mind if we have a quick word?" Harry shook his head, and they stepped around the corner of the house. When Kingsley was sure no one was listening, he spoke. "How have you been?"

Harry shrugged. "All right, I suppose. A bit better since I left Privet Drive."

Kingsley chuckled. "I imagine so, although I wish you would have stayed a bit longer."

"I figured it might have been a bit predictable, waiting until the moment I turned seventeen to leave."

"That's a good point, especially considering what information the enemy has access to now."

Harry darkened. "I hope to find their source sooner or later. Me and him have a reckoning overdue."

Kingsley sighed. "Just don't go and do anything rash, Harry." Harry shrugged, so Kingsley continued. "Anyways, this is not what I wished to talk to you about."

"What did you want to talk to me about?"

"What are your plans from here on out?"

Harry flinched. He was not expecting a point-blank question. Kingsley saw this and smiled. "Um, I haven't thought about it. Hopefully go back to school if McGonagall reopens Hogwarts."

Kingsley regarded him for a minute. "Harry, do you take me for a fool?"

Harry swallowed. "No, sir."

"Then let's try this again, and keep in mind how long I've been an Auror. What are you planning to do?"

Harry tried to think of an excuse, but nothing was coming to mind. "I don't know." Kingsley frowned at him. "Honestly," Harry said, "I don't know what I'm doing yet."

Kingsley sighed. "Look, Harry. I don't want to beat around the bush. I know that you and Albus were working on something, something vital to this war. Answer me this: did he ask you not to tell anyone else what you and he were working on?"

Harry considered the question. "Before I answer, do you swear to not repeat this conversation to anyone else?" Kingsley nodded his head. "I mean it, Kingsley. Not one person in the order."

Kingsley raised his hands. "I swear, Harry. Not a word."

Harry let out a breath. "Then yes, he did."

Kingsley rubbed his forehead. "He didn't trust the Order?"

"I don't think it was a matter of not trusting the Order," Harry reasoned. "Maybe more of protecting the task. If Riddle knew what we were planning, then the entire war would be in jeopardy. The less people that know, the less likely we'll be discovered is someone is captured and tortured." 

Kingsley raised his eyebrows. "It's that important?"

Harry nodded. "The war will be won or lost by it."

"Who else knows about this?" Harry just stared at Kingsley. "Fine, don't tell me," he continued. "But promise me two things, Harry."

"What?"

"First, that above all else, you do your damned best to stay out of harms way. Second, if there's ever a way for the Order to help you without compromising your task, you use it."

Harry thought this over. "Fine."

"Promise me, Harry."

"I promise."

Kingsley smiled. "Thank you. Before we go back to the party, I want to give you your birthday present now." Kingsley reached inside his robes and pulled out a silver dagger. It was nearly as long as Harry's forearm, and the Gryffindor crest was emblazoned into both the hilt and the sheath. "This is made of steel and laced with silver, so it'll be effective against several types of foes, should the need arise," Kingsley explained. "Not everything can be won with your wand. I suggest you learn how."

Harry took the dagger, pulling it a couple inches out of the sheath. "Thanks, Kingsley."

"Just do me a favor and hide that under your shirt before Molly sees it and skins me alive," Kingsley replied. Harry pushed the dagger back into the sheath and tucked it in his trousers and pulled his shirt over it. "Now let's get back to the party, shall we?" Kingsley said, putting his arm around Harry. Harry grinned, and they both walked back to the others, waiting for him to open his gifts.

Though there weren't many memorable birthdays to compare it to, Harry decided it was still one of the best he's had. Moody had given him a set of Foe-Glasses and Sneakoscopes (everyone else shouted "Constant vigilance!" when they saw what he had given Harry). Ron gave him a Chudley Cannons-sanctioned broom servicing kit. Hermione gave him a book entitled _The Dark Arts and How to Survive Them: Defensive Spells for the Adept_. The twins gave him a sampler box of the latest products from their joke shop (earning a glare from Mrs. Weasley), while Mr. and Mrs. Weasley gave him refills for his potion-making set for school.

After everyone had filled up on seconds and thirds of birthday cake, Bill pulled Harry aside. "Harry, Charlie and I got you a birthday present too, but we didn't want Mum seeing it."

"What is it?" Harry asked curiously.

Bill laughed. "You'll just have to find out for yourself. I hid it in your trunk so that you could open it when no one else is around." Harry gave him a puzzled look. Bill explained, "Suffice to say that, since trouble seems to be finding you at an alarming rate, Charlie and I decided on something a bit more practical than chocolate and Cannons merchandise."

Harry smiled. "Thanks, Bill."

"Don't mention it. After all, you're family."

Bill gave Harry a squeeze on his shoulder before walking back to the company of his wife. Remus took this opportunity to approach him. "Hope you don't think I've neglected to get you something as well, Harry."

"You didn't have to-" Harry objected, but was cut off by Remus' hand.

"I want to, but I can't give it to you until tomorrow morning, if you're not busy."

Harry shook his head before throwing up his hands in exasperation. "That's two surprise gifts now. I wonder how many more I can expect."

"Don't know, has everyone given you a gift yet?"

Harry thought a moment. He had noticed Ginny hadn't given him anything, but he also wasn't expecting anything from her, either. "Yeah, I think so."

"Well, then, I expect two's the limit. Seven o'clock tomorrow morning sound good to you?" Harry nodded. "Well, then, that's settled." Remus flashed Harry a smile, and walked off towards Tonks, who had just knocked the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes samples on the ground, causing several minor explosions and turning Mad-Eye's peg leg into a feather duster.

Later that night, after the rest of the guests had given their good nights and left, and the rest of the Weasleys were downstairs, Harry went up to Ron's room and closed the door behind him. Opening his trunk, he found a large parcel with his name on it. He set it down on the bed and opened it. Inside he found dark green boots, matching trousers with a belt, and a vest. Confused, he opened the accompanying note.

_Harry,_

_The boots, trousers, and vest are made of dragonskin. It is very tough and durable, and will protect you against some of the minor spells that cause physical harm, such as cuts and bleeding. Dragonskin does not deflect spells, so do not treat it as shields, but it should give you an added layer of protection, especially if you cross Ginny._

_Bill and Charlie_

_P.S. Fleur chose the color, said it would bring out your eyes. Bill_

_P.P.S. She's right, your eyes are rather exquisite. Charlie_

Harry chuckled. He understood now why Bill didn't want him to open this in front of Mrs. Weasley; she would have had kittens over the idea of Harry running off looking for trouble. Doubly so if he was wielding Kingsley's dagger. Harry smiled at the thought and quickly packed the clothes back into his trunk.

Harry turned to leave and noticed a package on the nightstand by his bed. Curious he picked it up. His name was written across the front, and he recognized the handwriting instantly. A knot formed in his throat as he carefully unwrapped it.

Inside was a picture frame, containing a photo of Harry and Ginny sitting against the tree by the lake at school. Ginny was leaning back into Harry's chest, and his arms were wrapped around her, content smiles on both their faces. Harry watched as Ginny looked up at him and he leaned down to give her a quick kiss on the lips, before both of them looked up at Harry and smiled. Harry remembered Colin taking this picture a week before the attack on Hogwarts.

Harry sat down on the bed, never taking his eyes off the picture. A myriad of memories came rushing before his eyes. Holding hands with Ginny as they walked between classes. Free time spent by the lake holding each other. Smiles exchanged as they talked with their friends. It was the most care-free time of his life, and he wished he could live it forever.

Harry closed his eyes, trying to will the tears to not come, but they did anyways. Gently he set the picture on the nightstand. So much had changed in the span of one month; Harry felt like he was suffocating. He would never be returning to Hogwarts, not as a student. He had given up Ginny, if only to keep her safe. He had lost his mentor. Harry had no idea where to start, everything was overwhelming. _If only Dumbledore were still here_, he thought to himself, _he might have known where to go next_.

Harry pondered this thought a moment, and then stiffened. He shot off the bed, threw open his trunk, and pulled out his father's cloak. Grabbing the Firebolt leaning in the corner, he raced over to the window and pushed it open. He jumped on the broom and shot off through the window and up into the night sky.

_A/N: I wanted to give a quick thanks to everyone who's read the story so far; I hope you've enjoyed it. Also, thanks to all those who have given reviews, it is definitely appreciated. If anyone has any questions or comments, please feel free to contact me. I'll try to answer what I can without giving away the story._


	3. The Importance of Being Ginny

_**The Phoenix Chronicles, Volume I: Phoenix Dawn**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter nor the characters associated with Harry Potter. I do not make money on this and am writing it purely for the entertainment of myself and all those who read this.**_

_**Chapter 3: The Importance of Being Ginny**_

Ginny was numb the entire train ride back from school after the funeral. She wasn't paying any attention to her surroundings; she was hardly aware of Luna and Neville sitting in the compartment with her. She stared out the window, but she wasn't looking at the passing scenery. All she saw was raven-dark hair and emerald green eyes.

The funny thing about all this was that Ginny didn't blame Harry for what he did. She wasn't even angry about it. That silly noble streak of his was part of the reason why she liked him so much. And, if the tables had been reversed, she would have probably done the same thing. Maybe it was part of being a Gryffindor, but she couldn't find fault in him wanting to keep those he cared about as far away as he could.

_Which does not mean that it still doesn't bloody hurt like hell_, she thought miserably. It had been a dream of hers, since before she had met him, to one day be with Harry Potter. She had a hopelessly naïve crush on the legend of the Boy-Who-Lived, when she first met Harry. What she had found, once she had actually got to know him, was that the legend paled in comparison to reality. And she had found herself, little by little, falling out of love with Harry Potter the fairy tale and in love with Harry Potter the man.

Ginny shook her head and scowled. No, it wasn't love. She liked him a lot, but it took longer than three weeks to fall in love with someone. Ginny sighed. _But it was the best three weeks of my life_. When she had dated Michael Corner and Dean Thomas, it was great and it was fun, but it was never anything serious. She wouldn't let it get that far; in the back of her mind, she had still held out some hope for Harry. She knew she was being ridiculous, since he really never paid much attention to her the entire time they had known each other. But she always compared Michael and Dean to Harry, and they always fell short. They weren't quite as brave as Harry in the face of danger (as she had now witnessed on multiple occassions), they weren't as loyal as Harry was to his friends and loved ones, they weren't as kind or polite as Harry was to others, even those he didn't know, they hadn't saved her life from a possessed diary like Harry had saved her. In short, they were not Harry Potter.

Ginny closed her eyes. If the last three weeks were like living someone else's life, as Harry had said, then she had lived a fantasy from which she never wanted to return. It wasn't just about the snogging sessions, either (although they were better than she had ever imagined). In his arms, she felt safe and untouchable, so much so that the might of Voldemort and his Death Eaters could charge up to them in those moments and would fail to lay so much as a finger on her.

After Dumbledore's death, she knew what would inevitably follow. She actually was surprised, in a way, that he waited as long as he did to break up with her. She had held out hope that maybe he wouldn't, that he might think that the risk was worth taking. But it was a faint hope, she knew Harry too well, and when he started the conversation at the end of the funeral, she knew it was over.

Was it over? Would either of them let this be the end of it and go their separate ways, regardless of the outcome of the war? Ginny didn't know. She wondered, for a moment, how long she would wait for Harry Potter to do whatever it was he had to do. Another sigh escaped her lips. _Probably a lifetime_. But would he wait for her? She thought back again to his words. They could have had months, years even. Would he wait months or years for the chance of a lifetime with her? Would she?

Ginny felt the stirrings of a headache forming across her forehead. Deciding that she'd thought about this long enough, and vowing that she would not let this ruin her summer, she rested her head back against the seat and closed her eyes, clearing her mind and falling asleep shortly thereafter for the rest of the trip.

After one month of her summer gone, Ginny knew that it was ruined.

It hadn't started well. When the Hogwarts Express pulled into King's Cross station, she was one of the first ones to get off. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley immediately pulled her into a hug, but she was struggling to look over her mother's shoulder at the departing students, searching for one in particular.

She saw him get off with Ron and Hermione. The three of them exchanged hugs, and Ginny watched as Ron and Hermione started towards them, while Harry seemed to start walking away. Ginny began to panic as she tried desperately to get away from her parents. She started to run towards Harry, but as she passed Ron, he grabbed her arm. "Ginny, don't," he warned. Ginny broke his grip and continued after Harry, but halted when he turned around and looked straight at her. Their eyes met, and she saw longing and regret in his. She wanted to go to him, and took a step, and that's when his eyes hardened. Not to hate, not to loathing, but to indifference.

It was a dagger to her heart, and she forced a sob back down her throat. Without a word spoken, Harry turned and walked away. She stared after him as he left, for what felt like hours, and watched as the dream evaporated into nothingness. There would be no waiting. There would be no months or years. There was three weeks, and there was no more.

Ginny felt a tear run down her cheek as she turned and slowly walked back. She was in a daze; she barely remembered the trip home to the Burrow from the station. She barely remembered going up to her room after arriving home. She barely remembered throwing herself on her bed, sobs wracking her body as she buried her face into her pillow. All she remembered was raven hair and emerald eyes walking away from her.

Ginny did her best to try to forget about Harry over the course of the next month, but it quickly turned into a lesson in futility. Trips around the pitch on her broom only reminded her of flying with Harry at Hogwarts. Sitting down by the river reminded her of sitting by the lake with Harry at school. Even working on her summer homework served only to bring back memories of Harry sitting quietly with her while she revised for her O.W.L.s. No matter what she tried to do, everything always came back to Harry.

The sudden change in behavior did not escape the notice of her parents. While Mr. Weasley felt it better to let Ginny sort out her problems in her own time, Mrs. Weasley was of the opinion that the more it was talked about, the better it became. Ginny resisted her mother's efforts at first, but eventually relented. She told her what Harry said after the funeral, and the look they shared at the train station. Her mother comforted her and reminded her that if they were meant to be, it would work out, which Ginny responded to with a snort, followed by a sob.

To make matters worse, owls from Privet Drive were few and far between. When they did come, they were from Ron, and said little other than they were fine (considering where they were), and that they would see them soon, though he never said exactly when. He was careful (and probably coached by Hermione) in what he wrote in his letters, in case any were intercepted by unwanted eyes. In a couple, Hermione even wrote a few words, saying hi and how they all missed everyone terribly. Noticeably absent were any letters from Harry. Ginny couldn't decide whether she was upset by this or not. Regardless, it did very little to lift her spirits.

With about a week left in July, Ginny had just come into the house from a rather lengthy de-gnoming session out in the garden when she heard voices drifting in from the living room. Cautiously she approached the door between it and the kitchen, listening carefully to the ongoing conversation.

"Oi, Mum, you're squeezing the life out of me!"

"I'm sorry, dear, but I haven't seen you for a month, and you've barely written, and I've missed you, you're all skin and bones. Are you hungry, do you want me to fix you anything?"

"Seriously, Mum, I can't breathe!"

Ginny chuckled to herself, then burst through the door. Mrs. Weasley was busy hugging the life out of a soot-covered Ron, with an almost identically covered Hermione behind him, brushing herself off. Unable to help herself, she ran over to her brother, pulling him out of her mother's grip to give him a bone-crushing hug of her own.

Ron groaned. "Can't a guy breathe for three seconds?"

Ginny smiled and relaxed her arms. "I've missed you big brother!"

Ron smiled. "Yeah, good to see you too, Ginny."

Ginny let go and moved over to Hermione. "Hi, Hermione, how are you?" she asked, giving the older girl a hug of her own.

"I'm fine, Ginny." Hermione glanced over at the fireplace. "What is taking him so long?"

Ron shrugged. "Maybe he's giving the place one last look over?" he suggested.

Hermione was about to respond when Mr. Weasley walked into the room. "Ah, Ron, Hermione, I'm glad to see your back." He gave Hermione a quick hug and clasped Ron on the back. "How was your stay with the….um….the Muggles?"

"The Dursleys, Dad, and it went all right, I guess, at least as much as can be expected," Ron answered.

Hermione huffed. "They are horrible people. I can't believe that Harry said that was them on _good_ behavior!" She glanced at the fireplace again. "Maybe I should Floo back and check on him."

"He'll be along any second, just be patient," Mr. Weasley said reassuringly. "As many bad memories as it sounds like he's had there, it's still a part of his life. He might be looking for some sort of closure before he leaves."

"Maybe leave a few well placed hexes as well," Ginny murmured. Mrs. Weasley gave her daughter piercing look.

"Well whatever he's doing, he worrying us sick. This is so inconsiderate." Hermione was starting to fume.

At that moment, Harry came tumbling out of the fireplace, soot flying everywhere. He stood up, brushing himself off, then looked up and noticed everyone staring at him. "Umm…hi?"

"Harry James Potter! What in the bloody hell took you so long? Did you think that we wouldn't be worried if you didn't come tumbling out right after Ron? Are you completely and utterly daft?" Hermione yelled. Seeing everyone staring at her, she muttered, "Well, it could have been serious."

As Ginny watched her parents greet Harry, she began to have doubts about being in the same house as him. She thought, with time away from him, that the pain would lessen, that her feelings for him, whatever they were, would ease and die. But with one look at him, everything that she had felt for him during those three weeks at Hogwarts came rushing back from a tidal wave. She wanted to talk to him, to run over and throw her arms around him, but the little bit of rationality still in her was enough to hold her back. She focused her attention back on the conversation.

"…but decided to leave the Dursleys a parting gift," Harry was telling Ron and Hermione. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had already left the room.

"Harry, what did you do?" Hermione was seething. Ginny braced herself for an explosion.

"Well, I was thinking about all the times I seemed to turn their life upside down, and I thought it would be horribly inappropriate if I didn't leave them something to remember me by, as a way of showing my gratitude." 

"What did you do?"

"I rearranged their furniture." 

"What?" 

"Oi! I know what you did! Brilliant, mate!" 

"What, exactly, did he do?"

"I put their furniture on the ceiling." 

Ginny couldn't help herself. She had been trying to stay quiet, though she wasn't sure why. Part of her wanted Harry to notice her, the other part hoped he'd walk away without giving her a second thought. In the end, she made the decision herself, albeit involuntarily. She giggled.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion as Harry turned towards Ginny. "Hi, Ginny."

Ginny felt blood rushing to her head and her heart pounding in her ears. _Bloody hell,_ she thought to herself. "Hi Harry, glad to see you're finally here."

"Um, sure, thanks, Gin. How are you holding up?"

Ginny's tempered flared, the slight smile disappearing from her face. "Don't worry about me, Harry. I'll survive The-Boy-Who-Lived," she retorted before spinning in place and marching out of the room.

Ginny stormed through the kitchen and out the the door. _How dare Harry think that I am incapable of surviving without him! Who does he think-_

A scream from inside the house interrupted her thoughts. The anger was replaced by fear. She knew who it was before she burst back through the kitchen. She knew who it was before she ran back into the living room. What she found confirmed the fear in her heart.

"Harry!" she screamed. He was shaking uncontrollably. Ron and her father were trying to hold him down; Mrs. Weasley was trying to stabilize his head, to keep him from snapping his neck. Hermione was struggling with his legs. Their combined effort, however, seemed to do very little to stop him. Tears sprang from Ginny's eyes.

"Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. "Help us hold him down!" Ginny just stood there, staring. "Ginny!"

Ginny glanced at her mother. She snapped out of her shock and rushed to Harry's side, grabbing his hand and sobbing. To everyone's surprise, the seizure stopped. Ginny dropped his hand in surprise. He started to shake again.

"Ginny, grab his hand!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed. Ginny just stared. "Ginny, do it!"

Ginny grabbed his hand again and Harry stopped convulsing. Tears streamed down her cheeks but this time she held on tightly. "Harry!" she cried.

Harry's eyes fluttered open. They didn't move around; they were staring straight into Ginny's. "Ginny," he whispered. "Ginny…I…" His eyes closed and he fell back into unconsciousness.

"Harry!" she sobbed, holding tight with one hand and caressing his forehead with the other. She felt her mother's hands on her shoulders.

"Ron, go Floo Professor McGonagall, tell her we need Madam Pomfrey here immediately," Mr. Weasley said. Ron jumped up and dashed to the fireplace. Mr. Weasley turned to his wife. "Molly, go fetch a washcloth and water. Bring it upstairs to Ron's room. Hermione, go help her." As they stood and ran into the kitchen, Mr. Weasley pulled out his wand.

"Ginny, let go so I can levitate him upstairs."

"No."

"Ginny, do as I say."

"No."

Mr. Weasley studied his daughter for a moment. He sighed, and waved his wand. "_Mobilicorpus." _ Harry's body raised up into the air and began floating towards the stairs. Refusing to let go of his hand, Ginny stayed by his side the entire way to Ron's room. Mr. Weasley eased Harry into bed. Ginny pulled a chair up to the bed and sat down.

Ron ran into the room. "McGonagall said that Madam Pomfrey will be here as soon as possible," he said, breathing heavily.

Mr. Weasley nodded, just as Mrs. Weasley came into the room with a bowl of water, Hermione following with a cloth. She looked at Harry's soot-covered clothes, pulled out her wand, and transfigured them to loose pajamas. She moved next to Ginny. "Ginny, dear," she began, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"No," Ginny replied, her eyes never leaving Harry.

"Please, hun, he needs looked after."

"Then I'll do it."

Mrs. Weasley regarded her daughter for a moment, then set the bowl down on the nightstand by the bed. Hermione handed Ginny the cloth. With her free hand, Ginny dipped it into the water and wrung the excess out, before proceeding to dab it across Harry's forehead. She rinsed the soot out of the cloth, wrung in again, and pressed the cloth across his forehead.

A few minutes later Madam Pomfrey burst into the room. "Everyone clear out, now." All but Ginny made a move toward the door. "Miss Weasley, move. I'm not asking."

"I'm not leaving."

"This is not a request."

"This is not an option."

The two stared each other down, neither one backing off. Mr. Weasley cleared his throat. "Poppy, perhaps you can examine Harry around Ginny."

Madam Pomfrey gave him a look, then pulled out her wand as she walked beside the bed. She waved it across Harry as she muttered different incantations, his body glowing different pale shades of color with each one. Madam Pomfrey's frown worsened with each color. Finally she put her wand away and stepped away from the bed.

"Physically, he's fine. I can't find anything wrong with him," she told Mr. Weasley.

Ginny frowned. "Then why won't he wake up?"

"I would surmise," Madam Pomfrey explained, "that his ordeal, whatever it was, probably taxed his energy extremely, and his body is simply trying to recover."

Ginny looked over Harry's face. "So he's just sleeping?"

"A very deep sleep, and one that we probably should not wake him from until he's ready." Madam Pomfrey made towards the door. "I'll leave a couple potions downstairs for him to take, in case he wakes with any pain." She turned towards Mr. Weasley. "Arthur, if there's any complications notify me immediately, but I daresay all he needs now is rest." She looked at Ginny. "I imagine, after the stress you all have been through, he is not the only one needing it." Ginny stiffened slightly, but made no move of turning around.

Mr. Weasley put his hand on Madam Pomfrey's arm. "Thank you, Poppy. We'll let you know when he wakes up. I think Molly has tea waiting downstairs, if you care for a cup."

Madam Pomfrey smiled. "Thank you, Arthur, I think I'll shall." She looked over towards Ginny. "Miss Weasley, I apologize for being, well, gruff with you earlier."

"S'kay." She didn't move from the chair.

"Here, Poppy, I'll walk you down. Ginny, call if you need anything." Mr. Weasley waited for an acknowledgment from his daughter. Receiving none, he sighed and walked downstairs with Madam Pomfrey, leaving Ginny to her bedside vigil.

Hours later, Mr. Weasley walked back upstairs to find his daughter still seated beside the bed. Her head was nodded forward, and her breathing was regular. He quietly walked to the foot of the bed, and saw her hand was still firmly gripping Harry's. A faint smile tugged the corner of his mouth. Gently he shook her shoulder.

Ginny's eyes slowly opened and looked up to her father. "Hi, Dad," she said, groggily sitting up straighter and rubbing her stiff neck. "What time is it?"

"Late." He looked at Harry. "He hasn't woken up yet?"

Ginny shook her head. "No, at least as far as I know. I'm not sure how long I've been asleep, though."

"You need to get some rest. You're doing Harry no good if you're exhausted."

"I'm not leaving, Dad. I can't."

"Have you tried letting go?" he asked gently.

Ginny looked at Harry. "I…I don't want to let go," she whispered.

Mr. Weasley suddenly was stuck with a feeling that what they were talking about was more than simply letting go of Harry's hand. "Ginny," he said, "I know it's hard. Letting go of things we care about always is. But sometimes it's for the best."

Tears streamed down her cheeks. "It hurts."

Mr. Weasley walked behind his daughter and wrapped his arms around her. "Of course it does. It wouldn't mean so much to us if it doesn't."

"I don't want to lose him."

"Who says you will? Who says that letting go now doesn't mean he won't come back?"

Ginny sniffed. She looked at Harry's hand, still in hers. "Do you think he will, Dad? Do you think he would come back?"

"After what we've seen today, do you doubt it?"

Ginny sighed. Gradually, she lessened the pressure on Harry's hand, and watched it slide out of her hands. Harry didn't stir. The sobs wracked her body, and she turned out of the chair and threw herself into her father's arms. "I'm scared, Dad," she whimpered.

"It'll be all right, hun. In the end, it'll be all right." Mr. Weasley kissed her on the top of her head. "Go clean yourself up and get some rest."

"He…he shouldn't be alone."

"He won't be," Mr. Weasley promised. "I'll stay with him."

"Thanks, Dad." She slid out of his arms. She looked at Harry once more. She wiped her arms across her eyes, then turned and walked out the door.

Mr. Weasley closed the door, then sat down in the chair beside Harry. He looked at Harry a long time in silence, lost in thought, before breaking down in violent sobs.

Ginny awoke the next morning with only one thought in her mind. She jumped out of bed and ran to Ron's room, and found Harry's bed empty. She smiled and raced to the stairs. She heard voices down in the kitchen and she stopped to listen.

"…I'm just glad you're okay, Harry," she heard Hermione say. "You really had us scared."

"Seriously, mate, are you all right?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, I'm okay, just…tired, is all," Harry said. Ginny smiled at the sound of his voice.

"Good. Reckon some Quidditch after breakfast?" Ron asked. There was an uncomfortable silence following the question. Ginny guessed it was probably due to Hermione. "Well, um, maybe some Wizard's Chess, then?"

"Sounds good."

Ginny decided she'd done enough eavesdropping, and descended the rest of the way down the stairs. She stopped upon entering the kitchen, her eyes on Harry. The noise of breakfast almost stopped when everyone else saw her. Harry noticed this, and looked up at her. Brown eyes met green, and for a moment, Ginny felt a spark that had been a major part of their relationship. But Harry's expression changed to indifference, and he quickly looked back down to his food.

It would have hurt less if a spike had been driven through her heart. She quickly fled outside and didn't stop until she was by the river. She sat down on the bank against a tree, and cried until she fell asleep.

For the entire week leading up to Harry's birthday, Ginny decided it was best to avoid him as much as possible. This meant that, during the days, most of her time was spent away from the house and the Quidditch pitch, and the evenings were spent in her room with the door closed. During meals she ensured that she and Harry were seated at the opposite ends of the table. When they did happen to cross paths, the extent of the conversations were a cordial "Hi" and they went on their way. By the end of the month Ginny was convinced that any future involving Harry Potter was long dead. The two days leading up to Harry's birthday she rarely left her room, just staring out the window and thinking what could have been. Tears usually accompanied these thoughts.

Ginny awoke early the morning of the 31st of July. She dressed quickly but quietly doing her best not to awake Hermione (who had arrived the day before). Once she was dressed, she headed out of the room and walked down the stairs and into the kitchen. Her mother was already up making breakfast.

"Ginny, dear, would you mind helping me cook breakfast?"

"I'm not terribly hungry, Mum, I actually thought I'd do some chores outside." Ginny _was_ a bit hungry, but she had very little desire in helping to prepare Harry's birthday breakfast.

"Nonsense, that can wait. I have a household to feed. Please?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

Ginny exhaled, and relented. Soon, the twins, Bill, and Fleur arrived and were seated at the table as Ginny and Mrs. Weasley finished cooking. By the time the food was set on the table Ron and Hermione had come downstairs and sat down, Mr. Weasley following close behind.

"Ron, dear, would you be so kind as to wake Harry? I don't want the food to go cold before he has a chance to eat."

"Sure, Mum," Ron replied, jumping up and dashing back up the stairs.

Ginny sighed and sat down at the table, loading up her plate with some eggs and sausage links. After a moment, Ron came back down the stairs grinning. "He's on his way," he announced, sitting down by Hermione. Ginny studied the two of them. They seemed to be sitting rather close to each other, and each one had a sort of glow about them.

Ginny looked around the table and suddenly realized that the only other empty chair was beside her. Her heart raced, and she glanced around trying to think of what do. She ran out of time as soon as Harry walked down the stairs. _Bloody hell_, she thought. They caught each other's looks briefly, before Ginny turned away. She did her best not to look up as he walked up and sat down beside her.

Mrs. Weasley came up, wishing Harry a happy birthday and setting a plate piled high with food in front of him. Harry's stomach growled at the sight, provoking laughter and causing a smile to form on Ginny's lips. Harry caught this, and Ginny caught him catching her. The smile disappeared and Ginny looked away.

After breakfast, the boys headed out for a game of Quidditch. Ginny and Hermione remained behind to help Mrs. Weasley with cleanup and some outdoor chores before the party began. Ginny did not speak much, and Hermione came close a few times to commenting on this, but seemed to decide to not say anything, for which Ginny was grateful.

When they finished de-gnoming the garden and setting up the tables and chairs, Ginny retreated back to her room, locking the door behind her. She watched from her window as the rest of the guests arrived, taking amusement in Tonks' unusual, yet typical, entrance. She saw Harry and Kingsley Shacklebolt disappear around the corner of the house, away from the other partygoers. She wondered what they were up to, but dismissed the thought as being none of her business. After a time, they reappeared and Harry began to open his presents.

He was just finishing opening up his last gift when there was a soft knock on Ginny's door. "Ginny?" a voice called.

"Come in," she replied. The door opened and Hermione stepped into the room. "Oh, hi Hermione," greeted Ginny.

"Hey, Ginny, you okay?"

"Straight to the point, huh?" Ginny grumbled, turning back towards the window.

Hermione sat on the edge of Ginny's bed. "Sorry, I guess I've never been one to beat around the bush."

Ginny laughed softly. "Yeah, you're right."

Hermione smiled. "So, how are you doing?"

"I'm okay, I guess," Ginny replied. Hermione just stared at her. "All right, I _could_ be doing better, but I'm okay under the circumstances."

"I wish you'd come down to the party. Everyone is missing you right now."

Ginny snorted. "I doubt _everyone_ is."

"Yes, _everyone_ is, including Harry," Hermione retorted.

Ginny scoffed. "Excuse me if I find that hard to believe."

"Why is that?" Hermione asked.

"Have you _not_ noticed the looks he gives me? Oh, on the _rare_ occasion we're in the same room, I might add."

Hermione frowned. "First, don't pretend he's the only one playing the avoiding game. Second, do you know why he did what he did?"

"Break up with me? Yeah, he was pretty clear on the whole thing at the funeral. Noble spirit and all that."

"Do you think it's been any easier on him than it's been on you?" Hermione asked.

"Must be, he's done a fantastic job of avoiding me so far."

"Like I just said, he's not the only doing the avoiding, from what I'm told."

Ginny looked over at Hermione. "Your source is probably a little biased, being best mates with Harry Potter."

Hermione laughed. "Maybe, but I doubt it. His baby sister is also involved in this. I don't think he'd take sides."

Ginny allowed a smile to escape. "Believe me, I think he would." She turned back towards the window. "I just need to forget and move on from Harry."

"Do you really want to?"

Ginny sighed. "No. But I don't seem to have a choice, do I?"

"Ironic, but that seems to be what Harry feels right now." Ginny gave Hermione a confused look, so she explained, "Harry is doing what he thinks will keep you the safest, which is far away from him. And it's slowly killing him."

"Killing him how?"

"He's been having a dream each night since we left Hogwarts. A nightmare, actually. In it, Voldemort beats him."

"What's that have to do with me?" Ginny asked.

"He kills you, not Harry."

Ginny stared at Hermione. Hermione continued, "Did anyone tell you what happened when Harry had his episode a week ago?" Ginny shook his head. "Voldemort spoke to him."

Ginny paled. "What did he say?"

"'I can see you, and I can see her.'"

Ginny took a moment to process this. "He can see us?"

Hermione shook his head. "I don't think so, and neither does Harry. I think it's more likely that he found about you two from Snape, so it's probably more of a bluff of sorts."

"But can he see where we are?"

Hermione sat there a moment. "I don't think that, either. Voldemort's been very guarded the past year, trying to keep Harry out of his head. He probably would be afraid that Harry would be able to see where he was, as well."

"With Dumbledore gone, why would he be afraid?"

"A good question, and honestly I don't know, but this is the first 'attack' on Harry since Dumbledore died, which leads me to believe that Voldemort is still being shy on the attack."

"Even if he can't see us, he can still put two and two together and figure out where we are."

"You're right, of course. Harry thought of the same thing and talked it over at great length with your dad the next day."

"Well, since we're still here, I'm guessing that they didn't decide to do anything."

"It was your dad's decision to make, and I don't think he's made it yet. They don't feel that an attack is imminent, it'd be like showing your cards before the hand's over." Ginny gave her a blank look. "It's a Muggle thing, sorry."

"You know, no one's even bothered to ask why I was able to…well, _calm_ Harry during his episode."

Hermione shrugged. "I think it was pretty much assumed that no one involved, including you and Harry, would have any idea why you were able to do that. No one's asked Harry, either. And honestly, who would we be able to turn to for answers? Dumbledore's dead. All we'd be able to do is make guesses, but it wouldn't get us anywhere, you know?"

Ginny shrugged and look back out the window. "So he's been having that nightmare since the funeral?"

"Yes. Silence charms are put on his room each night."

"Why?"

Hermione frowned. "So no one else wakes up from his screams."

Ginny closed her eyes. She was struggling to keep control of her emotions. "I…didn't know," she whispered.

Hermione put her hand on Ginny's shoulder. "Of course not. You know Harry, it was a struggle to get him to talk about it to me."

Ginny chuckled. "Yeah, sounds about right." They sat in silence. "I don't want to lose him, Hermione."

"I know, Ginny. He feels the same about you."

"Yeah, right."

"Do you doubt that? After what I've just told you and what you did last week?"

"After seeing how he reacts whenever I'm near him, yeah, I do."

"How much of that is in response to how you react to him?" Hermione asked. She was starting to tread on dangerous ground, and didn't want to get Ginny riled up.

"How I react to him? Are you kidding?" Ginny asked, her voice getting louder.

"No, I'm not, and don't get angry about this, I'm trying to help both of you," Hermione responded. "Think about it, though. What would Harry think if he saw you acting like you can't stand the sight of him?"

Ginny thought a moment. "That I didn't care about him," she answered.

"Do you?"

Ginny was taken aback at this question. "Of course I do. You know that, probably better than anyone."

"Do you care about him a lot?"

"Yes."

"Do you love him?"

"I…don't know." Ginny was starting to feel uncomfortable. "How can I, it was only for three weeks."

"It was for longer than that. Just because you two were 'official' for only three weeks, doesn't mean that you're only allowed to fall in love during that time."

Ginny was starting to become very uncomfortable, so she decided to try to go on the offensive. "Do you love Ron?"

"What do you-I mean, where did you-who told-" Hermione sputtered. Ginny started giggling. Hermione sighed. "Touché," she said.

"Does he know?"

Hermione snorted. "Does he know? The prat told me that I did."

Ginny gaped. "He told you that you loved him?"

"Yeah, after a good row that found me locking myself in the bathroom for three hours and him waiting outside the door for every single minute of it."

"He did? Ron's usually not that patient. What were you arguing about that made him tell you that you loved him?"

Hermione sighed. "What else? Viktor."

"_Vicky?_"

"Yes, _Viktor_. I'll give you the short version, since we've seemed to _somehow_ get off subject here," Hermione said, giving Ginny a pointed glare. Ginny smiled innocently. "I got a letter from Viktor yesterday, and it would just have to be delivered in front of Ron. When he found out who it was from, well, you know how Ron gets." Ginny nodded. "Well, after a few rounds of arguments and some name calling, Ron kissed me, and then I-"

"He _kissed_ you?" Ginny was shocked.

"Yes, and I was so shocked that I slapped him and locked myself in the bathroom for three hours. He said he wasn't leaving until I came out, which is why I was in there for so long. Finally, I had enough and opened the door, to find Ron falling backwards onto the floor. He starts muttering about a headache, so I go to look up a potion for it."

"Hermione, tell me you didn't."

Hermione laughed. "Yes, well, anyways, he grabs me before I have a chance to run off, and kisses me again. I didn't know what he was trying to do, so I started crying, hoping that would get him to stop."

"You wanted him to stop?"

"Not really, but I was panicked. He stopped and asked what I was crying about, so I said that he was only kissing me to keep me away from Viktor."

"Valid point."

"I thought so, but he said that if I was, well, 'too bloody daft' to see that he loved me and I loved him, then I would be better off with Viktor."

Ginny gasped. "Then what?"

Hermione shrugged. "I kissed him."

"Oh, Hermione!" Ginny exclaimed, throwing herself onto her friend. "I can't believe it! I'm so excited for you two!"

Hermione smiled as she hugged Ginny. "Thanks, Ginny. It feels, well, it's like I'm seeing everything in a different way. It's hard to describe."

"Like suddenly the future is clearer than it has even been before?"

Hermione nodded, and started to smirk. "I'm glad you know what I'm talking about."

_Oh, bloody hell_, Ginny thought. She sat there awhile longer. "I can't say what I'm feeling, Hermione. It really doesn't matter, does it?"

"It does, and if you want there to be hope for it when this is all over, then you have to do something important about it."

"What's that?" Ginny asked.

"Be yourself."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Ginny, when you first met Harry, how did you act? Actually, more importantly, how did you not act?"

"Like myself," she answered.

"And all Harry saw then was some crush-induced girl who sent him awful Valentine's," Hermione said. "Now what did you that made him start to notice you?"

"I started acting like myself." Ginny sighed. "Do you know how hard that will be?"

Hermione nodded. "Do you feel he's worth it?"

Ginny looked out the window. Harry was standing in the garden talking to Bill as he ate some of his birthday cake. "Yeah, I do."

"Then maybe you can start by finding something to give him for his birthday," Hermione said as she stood up.

Ginny gave her a hug. "Thanks, Hermione. I needed this."

Hermione smiled sadly. "I know, Ginny. I'm sorry I didn't talk to you about it earlier." Hermione let go. "You okay, then?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Go enjoy the party." Hermione gave her a pat on the arm before leaving the bedroom.

Ginny gazed out the window a little longer, than stepped away and opened her trunk. Reaching inside, she pulled out a package, addressed to Harry. She held it for a moment, then quietly slipped out of her room and to Ron's bedroom. She walked over to Harry's nightstand and sat the package down on top of it. With a sigh, she walked back out of the room.

Returning to her bedroom, she watched the rest of the party from her window, most of her time spent gazing down at Harry. After the party had retired indoors, she watched the sky darken and gazed at the stars well into the night, until her eyes felt heavy and she fell asleep. Moments later, a boy streaked off into the night on his broomstick.

_A/N: Again, I wanted to thank everyone who's reviewed so far. I never really thought about it before, but now I can see how much it means to have someone tell you what they think about what you've written. I'm not begging for reviews, but I promise to do my best to respond to any review given. If I haven't, please don't hesitate to email me and let me know the error of my ways. In case it's not conveyed easily, my email is jonathan.l. if there are any questions you have or want to discuss anything in particular. Also, feel free to share some of your favorite stories; I always enjoy reading fan fiction. -JB_


	4. Reflections ofthe Past and Future

_**The Phoenix Chronicles, Volume I: Phoenix Dawn**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter nor the characters associated with Harry Potter. I do not make money on this and am writing it purely for the entertainment of myself and all those who read this.**_

_**Chapter 4: Reflections of the Past and Future**_

Harry was often asked why flying for him was second-nature, to which he could only answer with a shrug. He never understood it himself, truthfully. When he had his first flying lesson at Hogwarts, he displayed the skill and control of someone who'd been flying for years, though he had never ridden a broom before in his life. Even those students who had grown up with magic and learned how to fly from their parents were never as adept as he had been. Flying to Harry was like breathing. He never learned how to do it; he just did it.

More than likely, it was because he was so good at it that he enjoyed it so much. It also provided him some release for when he felt trapped, worried, or depressed. Going up into the air on his broom, letting his feet brush the treetops and the grass as he rushed by, always seemed to wash his worries away. The blast of wind in his face also served to cool down his temper whenever it flared. Though he would never admit it to anyone else, there were times when he wished that Ron or Hermione or whoever would just give him some space when things were not going right in his life, space to just fly off and sort out his problems on his own. Why everyone felt it was their duty to try to cheer him up when his was down, or fix his problems for him, was beyond him. Some problems he needed to solve on his own, in his own fashion. Like the one haunting his thoughts at the moment.

He knew that Ron had meant well, confronting him about Ginny. And he was probably right as well, at least as far as their conversation had taken them. He could _try _to act like friends around Ginny. But that's all it would be, an act. Inside she was much more than just a friend, and Harry wasn't sure if he would be able to handle it. He wasn't sure if he _wanted_ to handle it. But that was his life, wasn't it? The things he wanted, the life he wanted, those things were simply just out of his reach, just out of his control.

Harry tried to clear his mind. He kept getting himself distracted from what he needed to do. As much as he wanted to think of Ginny, he'd wasted enough time thinking about her and not nearly enough time on finding the remaining Horcruxes. But therein was the problem. How do you go about finding something when you don't know what it is, or where it could be? Sure, they had guesses, but that's all they were. It was obvious that the locket was a Horcrux, wherever it was, and it was better-than-average odds that Hufflepuff's cup was another. The remaining two items, however, remained a mystery. It stood to reason that one would be an object belonging to either Rowena Ravenclaw or Godric Gryffindor. Maybe both. Dumbledore had reasoned that the final Horcrux might be Nagini, though Harry had doubt. Regardless, it had become his mantra: _the locket…the cup…the snake…something of Gryffindor's or Ravenclaw's…_

There was a myriad of questions circulating in Harry's mind, and therefore the looming problem was where to look for answers. He hoped that some, or at the very least some indication of direction, might be found where he was heading towards. If not, then they were no better off than before, which wasn't exactly a comforting thought. A month and a half of researching Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, and clues to the history of Tom Riddle, had turned up little. Extremely little. With grim determination, Harry urged his broom to fly just a little faster.

After about three hours of flying under a Disillusion charm, Harry saw the peaks of towers looming over the surrounding mountains. Harry felt an uneasy calm envelop him as he approached the castle. He couldn't remember ever seeing Hogwarts draped almost completely in darkness, no lights illuminating any part of the battlements or towers, but it still felt like returning home. As he flew closer, he did see a couple windows lit; he guessed that at least one of them probably belonged to Filch. Passing over Hagrid's cabin he noticed that it, too, was dark. Harry wondered if Hagrid was somewhere else, before realizing that he was probably just asleep for the night.

Harry flew up to the top of the Astronomy Tower and softly landed on stone. He stood there, taking in his surroundings. Pain shot through his heart as his thoughts drifted back to that night, watching the green light of Snape's spell strike Dumbledore and send his body flying off the battlements. Harry winced at the memory, the feeling of helplessness slamming him like a tidal wave. _Severus…please…_He took a deep breath and steadied himself. There would be time for that later.

Harry shrunk his broom and pulled out the Invisibility cloak. Stowing the miniature broom in his pocket, he threw the cloak over him and stepped to the door. He tried the handle, but found it locked. Harry aimed his wand at the door. "_Alohomora."_ The door swung silently open, and Harry stepped inside.

"_Lumos._" Light glowed from the end of Harry's wand, and he silently cursed himself for not bringing the map along with him. Well, he'd just have to make do. It was a big castle anyways, so with a little luck he'd avoid Filch. Wrapping the cloak tightly around himself, he began the long descent down the tower.

As Harry made his way through the dark corridors of the castle, he couldn't help but feel a bit out of place. Though this certainly was not the first time he'd wandered about the halls in the dark, it was the first time he was doing it not as a student, but as an intruder. It was like breaking into one's own home, it just felt _weird_. And, Harry noted, he felt a trace of regret. He knew he wasn't coming back as a student; truth be told, he wasn't sure if he would ever be back. Harry shuddered at the thought. His future was about as clear as a brick wall.

Harry had accepted this long ago. His life, up to this point, was anything but what a normal child or teenager should have had to endure. He lived in abuse for most of his first eleven years (the exception being the first year of his life, which he could not remember). The past six years had seen him battling foes that he really had no business battling. _Except that they made it my business_, he thought ruefully.

And he had no business still being alive, six years later. He should have died trying to retrieve the Philosopher's Stone, but his mother's protection saved him. He should have died in the Chamber of Secrets, but Fawkes saved him. He should have died in the graveyard at the hands of Voldemort, but the _Priori Incantatem_ that had occurred saved him. He should have died in the Department of Mysteries, but the Order saved him. And he probably should have died on the top of the Astronomy Tower, along with Dumbledore, but the old wizard saved him. In fact, he should have been dead when he was a baby before anything else. Luck seemed to be on his side so much, he sometimes wondered if there was Felix Felicis running in his veins instead of blood.

But as lucky as he has been, his fortune did not extend to those around him, or associated with him. Professor Quirrell was doomed before Harry even knew him. A number of people, including Hermione, Ginny, Colin Creevy, and Justin Finch-Fletchley, were attacked by the soul in Riddle's diary to get to Harry. Cedric Diggory died because Harry chose to share the Tri-Wizard Championship with him. Sirius died because Harry did not think to use the two-way mirror to find him, instead rushing off to the Ministry to "save" him. Dumbledore died because he was in Riddle's way to get to Harry. All of these reasons justified, in Harry's mind, why he broke up with Ginny. She would not die because of him.

_Bloody hell, you git, stop thinking about Ginny!_ Harry paused and squeezed his eyes shut. Why was it every single train of thought seemed to lead back to her? Harry sighed and continued his journey. If he couldn't get his mind off of her, then the whole point of breaking up with her would be rendered moot.

_Or was it already, _he wondered. The words he heard a week ago still rung in his mind. _I can see you, and I can see her._ Harry had spoken to Mr. Weasley about this the day after. Mr. Weasley was understandably concerned, though he was hesitant to do anything rash. "After all, everyone knows how close you've been to us," he had told Harry, "and no Death Eaters have shown up on our doorstep yet." They had both agreed, however, that with Dumbledore gone, the odds of an attack on the Burrow would be greater, and Mr. Weasley was looking into the possibility of moving the family to someplace more secure.

Admittedly, what puzzled them both the most was Harry's reaction to Ginny during his seizure (he was not sure what else to call it). Mr. Weasley suggested that perhaps it was the result of the connection they shared, due to their experiences with Riddle. Harry at the time agreed that it was both possible and probable, but looking back he wondered if that was true. He recalled, on so many occasions, how he always felt as if the weight of the world was lifted from his shoulders whenever he and Ginny were close to each other, either holding hands, or in each others arms, or hiding away in various broom closets…

"Get a grip, Potter," Harry muttered to himself. He broke things off with Ginny, for her own good. Even if he wanted to get back with her, judging by the way she had been acting, she'd never let him. Or forgive him. _Just another part of my life out of my control_.

After a time, and without any interruptions by the caretaker, Harry found himself in front of his destination. Mentally crossing his fingers, Harry spoke, "Toffee éclairs." Immediately, the gargoyles moved aside, revealing the stairs to the Headmaster's office. Harry was pleasantly surprised; he had expected to have to figure out the new password, figuring that Professor McGonagall would have changed the password immediately. Shrugging to himself, he trudged upwards.

Harry slipped quietly into Dumbledore's office. Closing the door behind him, he motioned his wand towards the candles scattered throughout his office. They immediately flared to life, bathing the office in their warm glow. Harry looked around and found that everything seemed the same since he was in there last, shortly after Dumbledore died. _Feels like years ago_, he thought, _though it's only been, what, a month and a half?_

Harry's eyes drifted to the wall, where scores of portraits of past Headmasters and Headmistresses hung, dating back to the days of the Four Founders. He knew the names of none, save for two. The first, Sirius' great-great-grandfather Phineas Nigellus Black, was apparently passed out in a chair in the portrait, a half-empty bottle of firewhiskey in his hand. His snores seemed to drown out those coming from the other portraits. Harry lingered on his only a moment, before moving his attention to the other portrait.

Albus Dumbledore's portrait hung at the end of the wall. He appeared exactly as Harry remembered the last he saw it: in his chair, eyes closed, for all purposes asleep. A box of lemon drops rested on a stand by the chair. Harry felt his throat constrict as he gazed on his former Headmaster; the pain still fresh and raw even after the month and a half since the attack on the school and Dumbledore's death. He swallowed hard and forced a couple deep breaths.

"Professor?" he spoke quietly. Dumbledore didn't respond. "Professor Dumbledore?" he asked again, a bit louder. Still nothing. Harry sighed. He had wasted enough time dwelling on what he had lost. Turning from the portrait, Harry approached what he had come for.

Harry was not sure what he would find in the Pensieve. He hoped there were some clues as to where they might look, something in the old Headmaster's memories that perhaps Dumbledore did not mention to Harry, either because they were focused on the locket or because, per his nature, he simply chose not to.

That was probably the one flaw in the old wizard; he kept a lot of things to himself, things that might have been aided with a more active involvement of others, such as Harry or the Order. It was both infuriating, and self-reflective. Harry had realized, in the weeks following the funeral, that the "lone-wolf" style that Dumbledore seemed to often exhibit was also a trait that was a part of Harry. He no longer looked to Dumbledore's past behavior with anger and resentment; Harry knew it was all because Dumbledore cared.

As Harry looked into the Pensieve, he suddenly realized he had no idea what he was doing. Every experience he had with the devices he was seeing either unplanned memories or ones brought forward by Dumbledore. Deciding to just take a plunge; Harry cracked his knuckles, stepped forward, and plunged his head into the silver, swirling mist. He felt his feet lift off the floor, and suddenly he was falling…

…and found himself back into Dumbledore's office. Harry looked around, surprised. His first thought was that he must have done something wrong, before realizing that he didn't do anything different than he did his fourth year, when he saw Dumbledore's memory of the trial that revealed Barty Crouch, Jr. to be a Death Eater.

The office door opened behind him, and as Harry turned, he felt the blood drain away from his face. Standing before him was Severus Snape. Harry watched in shock as the former Potions Master sat down in a chair opposite of the Headmaster's desk, an impassive expression on his face. Harry's face reddened and he felt the rage inside boil over.

"YOU!" he cried, throwing himself at the traitor. To his surprise, Harry fell through him to the floor behind the chair. Harry shot back up to his feet. Snape didn't move; in fact, he didn't even flinch.

The door opened again, and Harry spun around to his second shock of the night. Albus Dumbledore strode into the room, closing the door behind him. He strode behind his desk and sat down, his eyes trained squarely on Snape. "Severus," he spoke softly, "to what do I owe the pleasure of the company of a renowned Death Eater such as yourself?"

Snape returned the Headmaster's gaze. "The Dark Lord knows," Snape replied, "_Headmaster_."

"Oh, Severus? And what, exactly, is it he knows?"

"Let us not play games, _Albus_," Snape sneered, "we both know what I refer to."

"I see. Well, then, I do not imagine that you came all the way here, into my school, to state what I had assumed, up to this point, was obvious. So, Severus, since all games are aside, I ask again, to what do I owe the pleasure of the company of a renowned Death Eater such as yourself?"

"I have a debt to repay."

"To whom, if I may be so bold?"

Snape hesitated. Harry saw his hands grip the arms of the chair tightly for a moment. "Potter," he answered.

"Oh, so Tom has made a choice, has he?" Dumbledore asked.

Snape's face registered shock for a fleeting moment, before the arrogant expression returned. "I was not aware that there was a choice to be made."

"There's always a choice to be made," Dumbledore said, leaning back into his chair. "Everything we do, every day in our lives, is governed by choice, from the trivial decisions such as what pair of socks to put on in the morning, to the life-altering, such as which side to devote ones self in this war. Even in the face of a prophecy, such as the one you refer to, there is a choice, though it might not be evident to our eyes."

Snape stared a moment after Dumbledore finished speaking. "Is that all? I was hoping the speech would last just a little longer, I think I felt a hair turn grey."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Of course, Severus. Straight to the point, as always. I can only assume that you told your master what you overheard the other night in the _Hogs Head_?"

Harry watched surprise shoot across Snape's face for the second time. "You're well informed," he croaked.

"The proprietor and I are rather old friends."

"Indeed. Then my answer is yes, I did tell him."

Dumbledore stared at him. "Why?"

"Of course, he is my master, I tell-"

"No. Why are you here, Severus? Please," Dumbledore said, holding up his hand, "this goes beyond some debt you owe James Potter. You being here tonight, warning me what Tom is planning, will be considered treasonous in his eyes. I would like to know why you are here."

"My reasons are my own, Dumbledore. Suffice it to say that my allegiance to the Dark Lord has been, shall we say, lessened significantly. I find it to be in the wizarding world's best interest if his goals were not achieved."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "The wizarding world's? Or your own?"

Snape smiled. "At the present time, the one goes hand-in-hand with the other."

"But for how long, I wonder? How long would it be, before you decided that the needs of the world do not coincide with yours?" Dumbledore shook his head. "It pained me when I learned of your choice. But it is now a choice that has marked you forever, Severus."

"It may have marked me, Headmaster, but that does not mean that I am forever without salvation."

Dumbledore leaned forward. "But do you want salvation? Is that truly why you are here, or is it merely to serve your own ends?"

"Does it matter? If my intentions were to save myself instead of the world, does it truly make a difference, when in the end I am still pitted against the Dark Lord?"

"It is quite simply a question of loyalty, Severus. You may tell me all I want to hear, that you repent, that you've turned your back to your fellow Death Eaters, but words alone cannot instill trust in the untrustworthy."

Snape sighed. "It is there you are wrong, Headmaster. Words can indeed give you the loyalty you so require. Unbreakable words, in fact."

Dumbledore studied the man seated across from him. "And what would you be swearing to, exactly, Severus?"

"Why, loyalty to you and your cause against the Dark Lord, Professor."

"No."

Snape tilted his head. "No?"

"Not to me, Severus. To James. To Harry. The unbreakable will be to them, and against Lord Voldemort."

If it were possible for Snape to turn pale, given his complexion to begin with, Harry witnessed it. Snape's hands gripped the arm rests of the chair until his knuckles were bright white. "You do not know what you are asking," he growled.

"I know exactly what I'm asking. And are you not the one who came here speaking of a debt you owe?"

Snape closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "As you wish, Dumbledore."

A small smile played at the corners of the Headmaster's mouth. "Thank you, Severus." He cleared his throat, and stared over Snape's shoulder. "Mr. Potter, if you would be so kind as to join us?" Harry froze; Dumbledore was staring straight at him.

Harry and Snape both jumped at a noise coming from the shadows behind them. Turning around, Harry received his third and final surprise of the evening.

He was staring directly into the hazel eyes of James Potter.

"Potter," he heard Snape mutter as James stepped into the light.

"Snape," James nodded in reply.

Snape turned back to Dumbledore. "You knew?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "Of course not. James being here is merely a coincidence, albeit a convenient one, since it is to him you must pledge the Vow. Unless, of course, you've reconsidered..."

Snape's eyes bore down on Dumbledore, before turning back towards James. Harry saw that his father's hand was in his pocket, presumably clutching a wand in case Snape changed his mind.

"No," Snape spoke after considering. "I have not reconsidered. If this is what I must do to prove my intentions, so be it."

Dumbledore visibly relaxed. "Very well. James, if you would, please. Come forward and take his hand."

Harry saw a flash of revulsion in his father's eyes, before James stepped up to Snape. He gripped Snape's hand firmly, their eyes locked on each other. James took a deep breath. "I'll be in your debt, Severus."

Snape's lips curled. "A regrettable position to be sure, Potter. I'll take care to wash my hands of this afterwards."

James clenched his teeth but remained silent. Dumbledore stood and came around his desk, pulling his wand out from his robes. "Mr. Potter, whenever you are ready."

James closed his eyes and let out his breath, then focused on Snape. "Will you, Severus Snape, swear that you shall never again serve the interests of the Dark Lord Voldemort?"

Snape never hesitated. "I will." With this, thin wisps of flame bound themselves around the hands of James and Severus.

"Will you, Severus, swear that you shall from here on serve the Order of the Phoenix in the fight against the Dark Lord Voldemort, in any capacity deemed necessary?"

"I will." More flame wrapped around their hands.

"And will you, Severus, swear that you will do everything in your power to protect my son, Harry, against any attack on his life purported by the Dark Lord Voldemort?"

Snape smirked. "I will." A final band of flame entwined itself around their hands. The binds glowed bright red, and disappeared in a flash.

As the scene around Harry started to fade, he glanced over at Dumbledore. Instead of relief in his eyes, he saw concern and uncertainty.

Harry blinked, and found himself alone in Dumbledore's office, standing in front of the Pensieve. Harry looked around, and found the chairs were once again empty. He sighed, and sat down in one of the chairs in front of the Headmaster's desk. He wasn't sure what he was expecting to see, but he certainly wasn't expecting _that_.

Harry was staring at the desk when an envelope caught his eye. Harry stood up and peered closer at the envelope. His mouth opened in shock as he picked it up and read the outside:

_To Harry Potter, to be opened in the event of my death. – Albus Dumbledore_

Harry sank back into the chair, his hands shaking. He stole a glance at Dumbledore's portrait; the Headmaster was still fast asleep, snoring softly. Harry turned his attention back to the envelope, and slowly ripped the envelope open. Pulling out its contents, he read:

_As with the map, to reveal the contents, answer thusly: what can one never have enough of?_

Harry sat there contemplating the question for but a moment. The answer came readily enough, taking him back to his first year at Hogwarts, and the first time he talked face-to-face with Albus Dumbledore.

"_Sir – Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something?"_

"_Obviously, you've just done so. You may ask me one more thing, however."_

"_What do you see when you look in the mirror?"_

"_I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks. One can never have enough socks. Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books."_

Harry smiled sadly at the memory. He remembered not being sure if it had been an honest answer. _But,_ he thought to himself as he pulled out his wand, _it _was_ a personal question, after all_. He tapped the letter. "Socks," he spoke quietly.

The effect was instantaneous. The previous message disappeared in lieu of new writing. However, to Harry's surprise, it contained even less than it did before.

_Know thyself._

Harry stared at the words in confusion. _Know thyself? _Those were Dumbledore's final words to him? He felt anger rising up in his throat. He closed his eyes and took a breath. _There's a reason, _he thought, _what is the reason?_ He opened his eyes again. His eyes wandered around the room once again, taking in all the familiar objects that had been present so long ago when Harry and Dumbledore went to the cave. Everything was the same…

…_except for _that. Harry stared into a dark corner, and saw the light reflecting off a shiny surface. Harry slid the parchment into his pocket and walked across the office. His paces slowed as he saw the Mirror of Erised in front of him.

_Know thyself. What will I see when I look into the mirror?_ Harry thought for a long time. Would he see his parents? Would he see Sirius? Would he see himself as a normal teenager? _That is the question of the hour, now, isn't it? I don't know myself. I don't know what I want._ _Ginny would probably know better than I would…_

With a start, Harry realized the answer. He stepped to the mirror and looked at his reflection. For a moment, he looked exactly as he was right then; his clothes rumpled from wear all day, his hair windswept, his eyes a bit bloodshot from fatigue. Slowly, his image changed. He was suddenly older, though his style of dress and hair hadn't changed. He wore different framed glasses. The bloodshot eyes were gone. He was smiling. From behind him, Ginny stepped around. Harry's reflection reached around her waist and pulled her close. They were looking at each other and smiling. Harry saw a ring on each finger.

And as Harry watched, his reflection was holding another hand, a smaller hand. Harry looked down to see a small boy, maybe three or four years in age, beside his reflection, with brown eyes and messy black hair. The boy was looking up at Harry's reflection and grinning brightly. Harry looked up and saw his own reflection looking back with a grin to match. _My son…_Harry thought. It was in that moment that Harry realized what he wanted, deep down, more than anything else. Not a family that was ripped from him before he was old enough to realize what he had lost, but a family of his own to raise. One that included Ginny. _Three weeks…it was only three weeks…_

Harry pulled out the parchment to look at it again, but to his surprise the words had changed.

'_Tis not a question of what, but where._

Harry read the line several times, but couldn't figure out what it was alluding to. He pocketed the letter again and rubbed his eyes. He looked over to Dumbledore's portrait again, but as before all he saw was a sleeping Headmaster. He sat back down and thought over the events of the night. _Know thyself…Snape…not what, but where…_the thoughts swam all through his brain in no cohesive order.

Harry stood up and walked back to the Pensieve. He looked into it, but all he saw was the outlines of the same memory. It seemed apparent that it was the only memory in the Pensieve. Harry looked around the office but did not find any more stored away. Anything further he could have learned from the Headmaster died with him. On an impulse, Harry reached for an empty bottle. He pulled out his wand and extracted the solitary memory from the Pensieve and placed it into the bottle, and then pocketed it into his robes.

Harry walked over to the portrait. "Professor?" he asked hesitantly. As before, the portrait did nothing. Harry sighed and started to walk out of the office before a thought struck him, and he stopped in front of another portrait. "I know _you're_ awake, so open your eyes so I can ask a question." The portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black continued to snore. Harry waited patiently, and was rewarded to see the portrait crack an eyelid open. When Phineas saw Harry still standing there, he quickly closed his eyes again, his snores getting noticeably louder and quicker.

"I saw that, you know, so you might as well open your eyes."

Phineas huffed and looked at Harry. "Fine. What do you want?"

"Have you been in your portrait at Grimmauld Place much in the last month?"

"Maybe, what's it to you?"

"Has anyone else been there?"

Phineas snorted. "Just one chap. Irritating, insufferable man, at that. Pops in, asks if anyone's been around, and pops out."

Harry swallowed. "Do you know who it is?"

Phineas shrugged. "Said his name once, but I don't remember what it is. Snake or shake or shape or shark or snapple-"

"Snape?" Harry interrupted.

Phineas looked thoughtful. "That rings a bell. Come to think of it, I seem to recall seeing him in this office a few times over the years, talking to Dumbledore. Never heard much, though. I do try to sleep through most things, when people aren't trying to wake me up." The old Headmaster glared after the last statement.

"Er, thanks," Harry muttered. Phineas gave him one last look before promptly going back to sleep.

Harry gave the office one last look around. His eyes fell onto the display case behind the desk, and more specifically, the sword within it. In hindsight, he was never really able to explain what prompted him to take it, but it just felt like the right thing to do, as if the war was not something that it should be sitting out. Harry walked over, opened the case, and took both the sword and its scabbard. He sheathed the sword, shrunk it down without so much as a glance, and unceremoniously stowed it in one of the pockets of his robe. He strode back to the office door and waved his wand behind him, plummeting the room back into darkness. He threw the cloak back over him and stepped out of the office.

Harry quickly and quietly made his way through the castle down to the front gates without running into so much as a mouse. He didn't feel like leaving yet, so he decided to wander the grounds a while; he wasn't sure when he'd get to see them again, if ever. He wasn't coming back next term for sure, and who knows what will happen in the war. He just wanted to walk around and revisit memories of fonder times. He went by Hagrid's dark cabin, and thought back to all the times he, Ron, and Hermione had spent there, having tea with the gentle half-giant. He walked by the Forbidden Forest, reminded of his encounters with Aragog and Grawp, and the first time he'd ever seen Voldemort. He strode by the lake and thought back to the second task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, where he had to dive deep into the lake and "rescue" Ron from the merpeople and the grindylows. He walked by the Quidditch pitch, reminded of the numerous games he had played, and the Snitches he had caught. He even came across his and Ginny's favorite spot by the lake, if it was possible to have one in only three weeks of dating.

And finally, without meaning to, he came to Dumbledore's tomb. He stood before it for a long time, just staring at the white marble. Miserably, he sat down and leaned his back against it. And cried. He cried for the lives that had been lost, for the lives that would probably yet be lost. He cried for the childhood he never had, and for the future he felt he would never get. He cried for the unfair task set on his shoulders, and he cried for those who would be hurt along the way. He cried for the fear of failing and dying, and he cried for the world if he failed. The dam that he had kept his emotions hidden behind had finally burst, where no one else would see. Harry cried for a long time, and finally slipped into an uneasy slumber.

_Harry was walking down a path in the woods. He didn't recognize where he was, but that didn't seem to matter. All he knew was that it was important to keep going, to wherever the trail led him. The path and the trees seemed to stretch forward forever, and he couldn't see the end._

_After walking what felt like hours and days, Harry came upon a split in the trail. To his left the path seemed to continue as it had been, full of light and green trees. The path was well worn and established, and seemed like the right way to go, that it was the expected way to go. The safe way to go. To his right the path was overgrown, almost non-existent. The trees were haggard and mostly dead. There was hardly anything living to be found. Harry shivered at the sight; he couldn't imagine what kind of foulness might be found that way. Instinctively, Harry began to walk to his left when a voice stopped him._

"_Not sure if you want to go down that way, mate," the voice called from behind him. _

_Harry whirled around and was shocked to be staring into his own face. "Who are you?" he breathed._

"_Who do I look like?" his twin replied._

"_But…how?"_

"_Not too bright, are ya? Think that one over a second and you'll figure it out."_

_Harry stared at him. "I'm dreaming, aren't I?"_

"_Right in one. Knew you had it in ya."_

"_So…I need to wake up then."_

_His twin shook his head. "Not yet, I'm afraid. You and I have some talking to do first."_

"_About what?"_

"_About which path you're going to take."_

_Harry's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Beg your pardon?"_

"_The path, you git. You do realize you have to choose which way to go."_

"_Er, isn't it obvious which way I should go?"_

"_You'd think so, but this path represents where you are in your life. The path you've walked to here has been your life so far. You have a choice in front of you, of which way you are to go. You've heard of choosing the easy way or the hard way, right?"_

"_Yeah, I guess so."_

_The twin gestured towards the split in the path. "Behold, the metaphor."_

_Harry frowned. "A little melodramatic, wouldn't you say?"_

"_You get what you pay for."_

_Harry stared at him curiously. "Ya know, for being my twin, you really don't act like me."_

"_If I were like you, all you'd see is yourself brooding alongside the path pining over a redhead. The thought alone makes me want to hex myself." The twin shuddered._

"_I'm not that bad."_

"_Bet your heart skipped a beat with the redhead comment."_

"_Point taken."_

"_Thanks, now if we can continue on with the serious issues," the twin replied. He cleared his throat. "You have two 'paths' in front of you. The path you take will greatly affect the future of wizardkind; if not the world in general."_

"_The world?"_

"_Yes, Harry, the world. Voldemort, up to now, has seemed hell bent on keeping within Britain, but that's only because of you."_

_Harry nodded in agreement. "Because I'm a threat."_

"_Because you're THE threat. At least in most everyone's minds, foremost of Voldemort's."_

_Harry looked at him curiously. "What does that mean?"_

"_It means don't always put stock in what a prophecy says. Dumbledore told you as much before, when he said that Voldemort chose you as his equal when you were a baby. He could very well have chosen Neville, or more mind-boggling, chosen neither."_

"_Neither?"_

_The twin nodded. "If he would have simply ignored the prophecy, how different would the world be today?"_

_Harry thought this over. If Voldemort wouldn't have attacked him and his parents, they might still be alive, he would have never lived with the Dursleys, Sirius would have never went to Azkaban, and he might even still be alive. Dumbledore might even be alive today. On the other hand, Voldemort would have never vanished for ten years, and who knows what things would have been like today. "Very different," he answered._

"_Every choice has a consequence, either good or bad. Voldemort-excuse me, Tom Riddle-chose to believe in the prophecy, and furthermore chose to believe that it was _you_ spoken of in the prophecy. Keep in mind that prophecies are nothing more than glimpses of one possible future from many countless ones."_

_Harry contemplated this. "So this is all about choice and consequence."_

"_Right. Warms my heart that you might not be totally dim. Which brings us back to the paths. The path to your left constitutes the easy way. Taking this path may seem the easiest way to achieve your ends, but in the long run, the cost may well be much higher. The path to your right is the hard way. Difficult choices will have to be made along the way, but in the end, the world could be a better place."_

_Harry frowned. "That doesn't sound so definite."_

_The twin shrugged. "Well, not everything has to be done the hard way Harry. It's prudent to keep in mind not to make things more difficult than they need to be."_

"_Okay, but what do you mean by cost?"_

_The twin sighed. "This is war, Harry. Lives will be lost, including some you hold dear. In this, no one will emerge unscathed, least of all you. The question is can you make the right choice?"_

_Thoughts of losing Ron, Hermione, or Ginny in this raced through his mind, and he suddenly became sick. "I…don't know."_

"_And that's the nuts and bolts of the problem, now isn't it?"_

"_What do you mean?"_

"_Who are you?" the twin asked, folding his arms across his chest._

"_I'm…Harry Potter." Harry didn't see what he was trying to get at._

"_Yes, Harry James Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, man of the hour." The twin leaned in towards him. "Well, who is that?"_

"_I don't understand the question," Harry replied slowly._

"_No, you understand the question perfectly. You just don't bloody know the answer, do you?"_

"_No."_

"_And that's the problem. Even after what you saw in the mirror you still don't know yourself; at the very least, you are incapable of admitting to yourself who you are. You don't know that you like sunrises over sunsets because you hope that the new day will be better than the last. You don't know that you preferred dinner to breakfast at school because it's more likely that your friends will all be there at the same time. Bloody hell, you won't even admit that what you feel about Ginny is-"_

"_Enough!" Harry yelled. "I get the point."_

_The twin smiled. "Learn who you are, and you will become what you were meant to be. I'm talking about the serious stuff, not sunrises and food and the like. And then the path you were destined to take will be open to you."_

"_That's very…deep."_

"_Help me help you."_

"_Funny."_

_The twin flashed a grin, before becoming serious once again. "This will be the darkest hour of your life. Much will be lost, but much more stands to be gained. Realize the power you have over the Dark Lord and the path you must take, and you will not fail. And more importantly, grow up."_

_Harry's face darkened. "Excuse me?"_

"_When things don't go your way, running around yelling at everybody for every little thing going wrong doesn't strike me as being something a mature adult would do. Or believing that you are right in all matters concerning Tom Riddle."_

_Harry glared. "Is that in general or are we speaking specifics?"_

_The twin gave a noncommittal shrug. "Take your pick. This is your dream, after all. Just remember that all dreams are merely insights into your soul. That is where you learn about yourself; that is where you find out who you truly are, and what you are meant to do."_

"_I shouldn't be meant to do anything. I'm only seventeen, I'm not a bloody hero."_

"_Heroes are nothing more than ordinary men and women placed in extraordinary situations. They do not have to have superior power. They do not have to have exceptional bravery. They just do what is right when the time comes, regardless of risk to themselves. You, I believe, have proved this several times over. And don't even think about arguing," the twin warned, watching Harry's face redden. "because it's true. Let me count the ways: the stone, saving Ginny in the Chamber, saving Sirius from the Dementer's Kiss, facing Voldemort in the graveyard, fighting to save Sirius at the Ministry when you thought he was in trouble, and fighting to stop Snape at Hogwarts. You recognize what needs to be done, and you do it, without fanfare, and that is what a hero is, and that is what the world needs. You just need to choose whether to be the hero the world needs or not."_

"_Didn't think I had a choice in the matter."_

_The twin smiled grimly. "Oh, there's always a choice, always a fork in the road. It's the choices that define us. Didn't Dumbledore tell you as much, so long ago?"_

_Harry choked at the memory. "He said…he said that it is our choices that show what we truly are."_

"_Smart man, that Dumbledore. A bit barmy, but smart nonetheless." The twin looked at his watch. "Well, our time is about up. Remember what was said here, Harry. Follow your heart, despite what may come, and be what you are meant to be."_

_Harry looked at the twin curiously. "Ya know, for being me, you seem to have a lot more insight than I would think I'd have."_

"_My dear boy, whoever said that I was you?" The twin smiled warmly, and held out his hand, holding what looked like a piece of hard candy. "Lemon drop?"_

_As Harry stared in shock, everything around him started to fade. The twin looked straight at Harry. "By the way, it would be highly prudent to ask not what, but where."_

Harry snapped awake. He found himself still leaning against Dumbledore's tomb, bathed in the moonlight. He shot to his feet and whipped around, but saw nobody and no thing, except for the tomb. Harry ran his fingers through his hair and willed his breathing to slow down.

Once Harry had calmed himself, he turned and faced the tomb. "Professor," he whispered quietly. "I-I'm not real good with this kind of thing. You know, talking to the dead. No real experience with it, but I'll do my best."

"I'm sorry for all the grief I have caused you these past couple of years. I blamed you for keeping things from me, choosing to believe that I was being used as a pawn in the war, an instrument if you will. Since…the funeral, I've had some time to think about it, and I know now that it wasn't like that at all, you just cared. It hurts that I didn't realize it until too late, and for that, I'm sorry. I won't forget you or what you've taught me, both during school and tonight, and I hope that I don't let you down."

Harry reached out and placed his hand on his tomb. "I swear, sir, that I'll see this through to the end, no matter what happens. I'll do my best to choose the right path. I'll do my best to fight the fight with no regrets. Wherever you are, please watch out for me."

Harry stepped back from the tomb. He looked at it for a few more minutes, before pulling out and enlarging his broom. He cast a glance back towards the moonlit castle. Harry wasn't sure how long it would be before he saw Hogwarts again. After a moment, he mounted his broom and flew off into the night.

_A/N: Sorry that it's been forever since I've updated; I've started a new job and did some moving and it severely cut into my writing time, not to mention the release of DH. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far, and for being patient with this story. -JB_


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